There and Back Again
by Down the Rabbit Hole
Summary: Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter crossover. Takes place during Harry's fifth year. The mortals of the Fellowship are reborn and they have recovered their memories. 24 June: added a missing scene.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything. Harry Potter and his cohorts belong to JK Rowling; the universe of the Lord of the Rings was created by JRR Tolkien.

**Additional author's note after OotP: **The prologue through chapter 5a were written before OotP was out. After long reflection, they have been since been revised a bit. A tiny bit. Okay, it's not even worth mentioning. To the point that if you don't think you're finding anything different, that's normal. Actually, I just modified slightly three sentences (not counting the grammatical mistakes. Thank you, beta mine!). And one of them is not due to something in OotP but something I had overlooked in PoA. Kudos to the ones able to find them.

**Author's note**: Well, ladies and gentlemen, this is my first fic. Be nice, please? With a cherry on top? Anyway, I should warn you: English is not my first language; French is. I'm trying my best to avoid mistakes and I use a spell checker but feel free to tell me if something's wrong. Constructive criticism is welcomed too and even greatly appreciated. 

I don't plan to create any original characters except some Aurors for now – and that's because Mad-eye Moody and Longbottom are the only ones Rowling has talked about. Anyway, have you ever counted the number of characters in these books? No way I'm adding to that.

**About the story**: Crossover between the Lord of the Ring and Harry Potter. Did you ever wonder what happened to the Fellowship after their deaths? I know, I know, after the end of Arda, all the children of Illuvatar will be reunited in his song. But before that? To me, the end of Arda seems to be far, very far from now. To separate Legolas and Gandalf from the rest of their friends for so long always seemed sad. They've made a great service to Middle-Earth by getting rid of Sauron. They can get a reward for that, can't they? So, let's suppose their souls stayed on our world. What would happen if they met another Dark Lord? Namely, one Lord Voldemort. Takes place during Harry's fifth year.

"Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger." Especially You-Know-Who.

**There and back again******

**Prologue **

Adam Dawson's holidays were going well. Mostly.

He missed his fiancée back in the States but she had virtually ordered him to go and have fun. So here he was, in a small British village, playing tourist with a group of friends. He breathed in the summer grass scented air. Now and then, he regretted living in a city. He hadn't got out in the country in ages. As a child, his father had taught him to track animals in the woods. He wondered if he could still do this.

"Earth to Lieutenant Dawson", came a loud whisper on his right. "Earth to Lieutenant Dawson. Bunch of hyperactive kids pumped on sweets and coffee heading our way. I request my partner's assistance in this matter of life or death. Lieutenant Dawson, please respond."

"I wasn't dreaming," Adam protested. His partner and fellow lieutenant merely gave him a disbelieving stare and mouthed a silent O. Deciding his friend was having too much fun at his expense, Adam changed the subject. 

"A matter of life or death? Bruce, isn't that a little exaggerated?" 

The blond rolled his eyes and sighted. Adam was still dreaming if he had to ask that. "Wake up and look at the punks, partner." 

Obediently, the dark-haired man turned his eyes towards the punks who had stopped by their minibus. Actually, the kids didn't look like punks. They weren't kids anymore either even if Adam and Bruce liked to call them so. Philip, the youngest, was just over 19. Frank, the oldest was 21. Matthew and Sean were both 20. They were dressed casually but their excited look was what drew Adam's attention.

"They look like they've got one of their Plans." The wary tone bespoke of doom.

"Exactly," Bruce replied. "I'm warning you, Adam, if I have to bury my dignity by the end of this trip, it will be alongside yours." In spite of the threat, or maybe because of it, Bruce was trying hard to restrain his amusement. The four college students were unstoppable mischief-makers but the two cops had yet to stay mad at them for more than half one hour. They also had yet to learn to say no. Instead, they dragged their feet, trying to retard the inevitable loss of control.

Suddenly Adam chuckled and pointed towards the younger men. They were all speaking to the doctor Morrison, the last member of their group, at the same time. The red-bearded man was trying and failing to stench the flow of words. The harassed expression on the last member of the group's face was quite humorous. 

"Mister Dawson, Mister Ward. How nice of you to deign to join us." One look from the tall geology doctor told them exactly what he thought of them leaving him alone to deal with the youths. Duly chastised, the two wayward men smiled sheepishly. But Adam wasn't in the habit to leave a verbal challenge unanswered. A moment later, he raised his head higher, a twinkle in his grey eyes.

"Well doctor Morrison, we could hardly take the risk of leaving a old man around young and strong kids who will run him to the ground and make him burst a coronary, could we? And then, Bruce and I would be under the obligation to arrest them for assault and that would ruin our vacation," he said in a faked tone of utmost desolation. That left the good doctor spluttering indignantly, Matt replying dryly "Thanks. I think," and Phil cheekily trying to soothe the injured party "There, there. Don't mind him, Greg. He is just jealous because we like you better than him!"

Not for the first time, Adam wondered how he had managed to become friends with such an eclectic group. Bruce and he had been assigned as partners five years ago. It had taken them four months of tension and rivalry - and some rather persuasive intervention****from their family and co-workers, admittedly driven to distraction by their immature behaviour– to start befriending each other. 

Last year, they had worked undercover at the local university to investigate a drug ring. There, on one fateful night, they met the five others. They were still trying to avoid asking what an ex-military geology doctor, two students in chemistry, a student in botany and one in history were doing in a dark physics laboratory that could involve edible blueberry body paint, a stuffed bunny wearing sunglasses, an Italian dictionary and a feather boa. Nevertheless, once the case was closed, the seven of them had stayed in contact. **__**

Their friendship was a strange thing. Bruce and Adam were 29 and apparently didn't have anything in common with the four fun-loving students. The latter had known each other virtually from birth and Matt and Phil were even cousins. They had even less to do with a 36-year-old geology researcher whose philosophy was to let idiots make fools of themselves, sit back and enjoy the show. Or to help idiots reach new heights of ridiculousness, following the circumstances. 

In no time, they had learned about each other's lives and thus, when the academic part of their little group heard that the two cops had up to a month leave overdue, they had kind of kidnapped them for a little road trip abroad in the United Kingdom. Adam and Bruce hadn't minded the change of scenery. What they minded was the speed the cops' other friends had demonstrated to put them on the plane. They were **not** workaholics, no matter what everyone else said. 

The students had taken a sabbatical year and were going to travel all over the world. The United Kingdom was only the first step in their journey and they had somehow convinced the three older men to come with them for two weeks. The sojourn on the perfidious Albion was incontestably fun although Adam, Bruce and Gregory were starting to wonder about the sanity of agreeing to that trip. To be brutally honest, they were worrying about their sanity. Period. The kids were finding newer and crazier stunts to do each day and were pulling the three others into their schemes. It had started innocently enough. Someone suggested the usual museum and sight seeing tours in London. The very same night, they had let themselves be locked into a haunted tower. Miraculously, they hadn't been caught. And so it went for a week, travelling throughout Wales, England and Scotland, from South to North, from chasing after underwear stealing sheep to yelling after Nessie near the famous Loch. 

It was in Scotland that the most memorable incident happened. They had got drunk in a tavern and had ended up dancing wearing the traditional kilt. But the best – or worse, considering your point of view - was yet to come. The morning after, still in kilt, Bruce had refused to believe he would have willingly dressed like "…THAT!!" and had accused Adam of playing a prank on him until the tavern owner showed him the pictures his daughter had taken. Matt mentioned putting them on the 'Net. That statement brought on a mud fight for the possession of the offending pictures between "the pretty boys in drag", great defenders of the liberty of expression and "the old perverts in skirt", mighty believers of the privacy of private matters. The old perverts barely won thanks to their allegedly superior fighting skills. In reality, Sean and Frank had frozen when they had realised that the young girl was still taking pictures. Bruce ended up buying all the pictures, the film and, just to be on the safe side, the camera. He paid twice their value to make it up to the girl for the loss, of course. Honour demanded nothing less. Or so he said. The students swore up and down she was quite taken with the pictures and wouldn't take less to be persuaded to part with them.

Despite all the mock protests, none of them would have missed this for all the gold in the world. And though Adam and Bruce claimed they were not workaholics, they had been overworked. They had needed some down time and even if they weren't exactly resting, they were relaxing, going with the flow their crazy younger friends were creating. But that didn't stop the older men from wishing they could conserve a shred of dignity. They were thus immediately on their guard when Phil asked, "So, are we going?"

"Where and what will it cost us to be able to get out?" Greg asked instantly. The students shared a long-suffering look. Hadn't the man listened to their explanations? _Well, we had all been speaking at the same time_, thought Sean, _so I guess he can be forgiven_. He made a move to speak up.

Automatically, the older men relaxed. Matt and Phil were The Mischief-Makers of the lot and proposed the wildest ideas while Frank and Sean were usually more reasonable even if they always covered the cousins. It wouldn't be too bad for them this time. Sean caught their relieved reaction and raised an eyebrow but did not comment on it.

"We won't have to pay anything to get in. We want to see the old manor on that hill over there," he explained.

Adam, Bruce and Greg looked in the indicated direction. The large house looked abandoned.

"Let me guess," Greg said, "another haunted house?" His voice carried mixed feelings which Adam and Bruce shared. Visiting rumoured haunted houses were a relief after some other activities they couldn't bear to think about but it was starting to get old.

"Not to my knowledge," answered Frank. He looked at the two cops. "Actually, it's more your department. Well, not exactly, it's not vice but it's police matter." That drew the older men's attention. "Fifty years ago, the owner and his family were found dead inside the house," Frank continued. "The cause of the death was and still is unknown. At that time, their gardener was suspected but he was released for lack of evidence. The manor was sold and the gardener still worked there. The villagers say he was bad luck and that's why none of the new proprietary settled in. Last year, he didn't go to the village to buy provisions, so some villagers went up to check on him. They found him dead in one of the rooms of the manor. At first, the police thought he had died of old age but that didn't explain what he was doing in the house. According to the old woman we've talked to, he never went inside except to scare off kids who broke in to play. The coroner****didn't find anything wrong with him when he was autopsied. He just _died_."

"What do you expect to find in the house, then?" Adam asked.

"Well, nothing special," Frank answered. "I'm just curious about the strange events happening around this house. Two months ago, on 24th June, the churchyard was vandalised, some graves were destroyed and someone stole the bones of the son of the proprietary killed fifty years ago. The story of this house is tragic. I just want to take a closer look at it. Anyway, what harm could that do?"

"For one, we could be arrested for trespassing on a private property," Bruce noted.

"The current owner has never set foot here and none of the villagers will call the police. They really don't care about what happens in this house. And we'll be quick. Don't tell me you're not curious?" Frank pleaded. He turned big blue puppy dog eyes towards the older men.

"Just a quick look around and then we're gone," Adam finally conceded. He shared a look with Bruce and Greg. _We really need to learn to resist these eyes_, he thought. Meanwhile, the students had already exploded into motion, trying to herd the older men into the minibus faster.

"It's not like we had anything better to do anyway," Greg sighed. "What are a good dinner and a warm bed when curiosity calls? My turn to drive." He took the driver's seat and, while the others took their places behind him, he asked Frank another question. "What was his name?"

"Who?" replied Frank abstractedly, securing his seatbelt.

"The son of the proprietary. The one whose grave was profaned."

"Oh. Riddle. His name was Tom Riddle."

#####

From closer, the house looked even more ruined than from afar. What little light the descending sun cast outlined the grim aspect. Still, "It could have been beautiful," admitted Frank with reluctant wonder. 

The old woman at the pub had been right. She had told him that fifty years ago, this place was the grandest building in miles around. But today, neglect had marred its beauty. The high windows were barred, the roof was falling in places and climbing ivy invaded the walls.  The history student wondered at the reasons of this decay. Why would anyone leave this place to rot, if it had really been so grand?

"Door's open," said Bruce.

The students immediately perked but Gregory and Adam stopped them, a restraining hand on each kid's shoulder. The younger men immediately turned pleading looks to the doctor and the cop. Greg merely gave a questioning look to Adam. That prompted him to sigh and to lift an eyebrow at Bruce. The latter shrugged, signalling he had seen nothing that could constitute a threat.

Even if the villagers were apparently unlikely to call the police, they could get into trouble for trespassing on a private estate. Still, as Frank had said, to take a look wouldn't do any harm. And Adam was curious too. The house was surrounded by a strange atmosphere, a feeling of sadness and full of secrets. It was just an impression, of course but he couldn't shake it off. He finally came to a decision and let go of Sean and Frank.

"We're going to take a look inside. But," he added when he saw the students' enthusiasm, "just a look. We will **NOT** touch anything. Understood?"

"We are young, not stupid, you know," replied Phil, rolling his eyes. "We're not going to tear the house down."

"I'm sure he knows, Phil. But it would help if you didn't act so much like a moron," Matt hissed at his cousin. Before Phil could open his mouth to respond to the insult, Sean intervened.

"Don't worry, Adam. We won't disturb anything."

"Let's go, then," said Greg, walking towards the entrance. In his mind, the sooner they started, the sooner they would be done.

Greg was wrong. Half an hour later, Adam, Bruce and he had chosen to wait in the dining room until the students were finished. They couldn't fathom what the kids had thought they would find here. Still, the Riddle manor was huge and they were taking their time exploring it thoughtfully. As was the exterior of the house, the interior was neglected. All the furniture from the last inhabitants was still here but covered in dust and cobwebs. 

Adam was starting to grow uneasy. Soon, the sun would disappear and they wouldn't see anything inside the house. The students had separated once they had passed the door and had yet to reappear. Now, Bruce had started to pace and Greg had looked at his watch three times in the last five minutes. Apparently, he wasn't the only one to develop a bad feeling about this. 

"I'll go get them," announced Bruce. Gratefully, Adam and Greg followed him. Anything was better than to wait in this increasingly oppressing atmosphere. Out of the dining room, they had two choices of destination: upstairs towards the sleeping rooms or staying on the ground floor. Behind a discreet door a flight of stairs leading to the cellar could be found but none had taken the risk to go in the pitch- black darkness. Thankfully, they were spared a chase. 

"This place gives me the creeps," Sean said, descending the stairwell with Frank. The latter seemed to agree with him, despite his earlier interest. The silent rooms had seemed to exist out of time. One of them seemed to have been inhabited in recent years but nothing had been touched in the others. Without the dust, one could have thought the owners had just gone for a walk and hadn't come back yet.

"Where are Phil and Matt?" asked Bruce.

"They were in the kitchen, I think." Frank answered.

"Let's find them, and then leave. Personally, I think I've seen enough of this house," said Greg. Nobody argued with him.

The kitchen was in the back of the house, facing the rising sun. But now, that meant that even if the sun wasn't down yet, the kitchen was already pretty dark. That didn't stop Phil and Matt from opening every cupboard and drawer they could find. And since the kitchen was as large as a small cavern, there were a lot of cupboards. These hadn't been cleared after the deaths of the owners and they had already found forks, knives, bigger kitchen knives, spoons, all other sort of kitchen utensils, cans and so on. By now, everyone but these two was feeling uneasy. Reflexively, Adam reached for his gun before remembering he had left it in the minibus and swore softly. The nagging feeling of unease was growing. As a cop, he had learned to trust his instincts. Right now, they were telling him to get away from here while he still could. Something was very wrong here. Bruce seemed to have the same idea. 

"Come on, kids. We're leaving." At the same instant, Phil spoke.

"There is a back door here; do you think it's open?" He reached for the door and Adam's bad feeling transformed into full-blown alarm.

"Phil…"

"Yes? Is something wrong?" He had already opened the door.

"Yes, little Muggle, something is wrong. Your existence," came a voice from outside. Phil looked toward the source of the voice and jumped back.

"Holy shit! What the hell is that thing?!"

A man entered and Phil's friends understood his surprise. For the stranger's appearance was shocking. He was tall, so pale one could have been forgiven to believe he didn't have a drop of blood in his veins. He was wearing black robes that couldn't hide his skeletal form and he was holding a black polished stick in his long fingers. But compared to his face, his build could pass for normal. The man was bald, had red eyes with vertical pupils and his nose was flat, with slits for nostrils. The stranger looked more like a snake than a human. 

"What a wonderful little surprise," he said coldly. "I come to collect a little soil from my father's land and I find the next volunteers for my little experiment. Fate favours me, don't you think, Wormtail?"

"Yyye...yy.yes, Master," stuttered the so-called Wormtail. Cowering behind the first creature, nobody had remarked his presence 'til now. He was a cowering little man with blond hair who looked like a rat. There was a edge of panic in his voice. "Mas…Master, there were wards on the house. The Aurors know that we're here and will arrive soon. We should Disapparate now." That man was really pathetic. He added "Not that I'm afraid to face them, Master, but it would be more prudent while your plan is not ready."

_Muggle?__ Aurors? Disapparate?_ _What were they talking about and who the hell were they?_ thought Sean.

"Who the hell are you?" For an instant, Sean thought he had spoken out loud but ignoring his servant, the man was answering Greg.

"My name is Lord Voldemort, though I don't expect you to know it. Yet," Voldemort added with malice. 

The man was crazy, that much was clear. How dangerous he was remained to be seen but Adam would prefer to avoid first-hand experience. Anyway, if the estate currently belonged to this man, the group of friends were in the wrong by being there.

"Listen, Mister Voldemort. We're sorry to be on your property. We just wanted to visit this house. If we had known that any of the owners were****here, we would have asked your permission before entering. We don't want any trouble so we're going to leave now. Does that suit you?" proposed Adam. Once more, Bruce admired his friend's solid nerves and his diplomatic skills. Adam was nervous and on his guard but wasn't showing it to the stranger. If Bruce had spoken in his place, feeling threatened as he was, he would have confronted the man and damned the consequences. But with Phil still between Voldemort and the rest of the group, it wouldn't have been wise.

Strangely, the stranger laughed. It was a sinister sound and the little company found themselves cringing at it.

"These grounds aren't mine, stupid Muggle," he said. "And I would never want them, spoiled as they were by the Muggle occupants. Killing them was a highly satisfactory experience," he added conversationally. Before the company could react to this news, he continued. "Did you know that I don't have a soul anymore? I have no need for it. But everyone else has one. Souls are such fascinating things. I wonder, sometimes, where they come from. Don't you?"

"It matters little what we think about souls," answered Bruce. "We're leaving now. Philip." He called the chemistry student back. Voldemort hadn't attacked yet but Bruce felt it was only a matter of time. From the corner of the eye, he saw Adam pick up one of the knives in a drawer behind his back. At least, one of them was armed.

"Leaving already? You are right, it is time. You should be proud, you know. Thanks to you, I will discover where souls come from. It's a new curse I have created, I'm rather proud of it." While everyone puzzled on the meaning of his words, he raised his stick. "_Priori spiriti reversio."___

A white light blinded the company and Bruce felt himself being separated from his body. He screamed and heard the others scream from afar. He felt fear, pain and suddenly, he was back in his body, on his knees, trembling and trying to get his breath back. _Magic?_ _Humans aren't supposed to do magic!_ he thought franticly. 

"How curious," murmured Voldemort. He approached the kneeling man. "You are still alive. I will have to work on my curse, then. As for your condition, it can be easily remedied." He raised his stick - _a wand? _- again_. _"Avada Ked…AAah!!"   

A knife had embedded itself into the madman's shoulder. Suddenly, voices came from outside.

"Master, the Aurors are here!" warned Wormtail.

"Silence, Wormtail and Disapparate us. We will meet again, Muggle." On these last words, they disappeared into thin air.

"I'm counting on it, Voldemort." That resolute voice was familiar to the blond man. _Adam. _Adam was beside him and had thrown the knife. The world was starting to blur before his eyes. He looked to his partner, his captain… _Captain?_

"Aragorn?"

The world went black.

####

In another part of Britain, a scarred boy stopped screaming.


	2. Chapter 1: Ripples

**Disclaimer:** I' m planning to conquer the world and steal them but my army isn't ready yet. Ask again later.

Thanks to sabriel-chan, Alynna Lis Eachann, Cheysuli and The Mad Fangirl for reviewing. The Mad Fangirl, did you receive my reply? Now and then, I have some problems with my e-mail and I'm not always sure people get my messages. Did you?

Voldemort and the Fellowship have met. Inquiring minds want to know. No one has a more inquiring mind than children and elves. Except hobbits. Currently absent from this chapter hobbits.

**Chapter One: Ripples**

In the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry Potter could still hear the echo of his screams. The pain from his scar on the forehead was even now fading to a mere throb and his fingers relaxed, relinquishing their grasp on the carpet beneath him. 

"Harry? Are you okay?"

He opened his eyes. Ron, his best friend, was leaning over him. Hermione, his second best friend, was hovering a little further. She was keeping the others students at bay to give him some space. They didn't try to rush past her.

This year, somebody amongst the Gryffindors had put two and two together and found four. In hindsight, they had realised that Harry often seemed to find himself in dangerous situations and that his scar was hurting only when something was up. And that something had often to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the dark wizard that everyone had thought dead.

The previous years, Harry had seemed to attract strange events like honey attracts flies. That had raised some questions but strange events happened all the time in the wizarding world. So, mostly, the other students hadn't paid a lot of attention to these situations. But last year, during the Triwizard Tournament, these events had involved the disappearance of Bartemius Crouch, the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the death of Cedric Diggory, another student of Hogwarts. Harry had been found wounded and delirious, claiming that the Dark Lord was back.

The Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, had confirmed this. And even if the Ministry of Magic kept denying the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the students believed Dumbledore. There were proofs of his return. During the summer, dozen of Muggles and wizards had disappeared. Today, the students were safe at the school protected by Professor Dumbledore but they were afraid for their family. A lot of them had subscribed to the Daily Prophet to keep up with the events outside Hogwarts and they had asked their parents to write every day. But the Gryffindors knew there was another source of information. The-Boy-Who-Lived. They had realised Harry had a connection with the Dark Lord, a connection that probably existed since the Dark Lord had tried to kill baby Harry and had his curse backfire on him. Tough, by a tacit agreement, nobody talked about it. So Harry found himself simultaneously expecting and surprised by Seamus Finnigan's question.

"Harry, did You-Know-You… Did he… Harry, did someone die?"

Gasps and shocked whispers erupted in the room. Nobody but Ron and Hermione knew exactly what Harry experienced through his scar, what or how much he learned. But all fell silent went Harry finally got up with Ron's help and looked at Seamus. Seamus' father was Muggle, a man who wasn't a wizard. One of the common targets of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. 

"No, I don't think so." Harry smiled grimly. "But Voldemort is not really happy with his state of existence, right now."

Seamus nodded, relieved and a little confused by Harry's second sentence.

"I have to see Professor Dumbledore," announced Harry. The students immediately parted to give way to The-Boy-Who-Lived as he walked towards the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower. Automatically, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger fell into step with him. They stayed silent until they were halfway to the entrance of the Headmaster's office on the second floor, letting Harry recover from his experience.

"Not happy with his state of existence?" Hermione repeated Harry's words.

 Harry nodded.

"Someone threw a knife at him. It won't kill him, unfortunately, but that hurt him."

"Wow." Ron was clearly awed. "Someone threw a knife at You-Know-Who and still lives to tell the tale? Wicked. Was it an Auror?"

"Voldemort didn't think so. He called them Muggles," answered Harry. "Yes, there were several people involved," he added, forestalling Hermione's question. "We're almost at Dumbledore's office. Come on. I'll tell the whole story inside."

Indeed, they were already in front of the stone gargoyle in the empty corridor guarding the office's entrance.

"Crunch," said Harry. 

Dumbledore had recently developed a fondness for the Muggle sweet. Last week, after the Sorting Feast, the Headmaster had taken Harry aside to give him the password. It was a decision motivated by experience because Harry had already needed to talk to him urgently several times during the previous years. The boy was able to guess the password among the sweets' names but it was a waste of time.

The gargoyle moved, revealing a secret door. The children passed the door and waited as the rising stairs lead them to the Headmaster's office.

Thankfully, Dumbledore was there. Harry really did not feel up to track him down in the castle even with the Marauder's Map. The password was not the only thing Dumbledore had given Harry last week. Or given back since the Map belonged to Harry. The Professor raised twinkling eyes at the three fifth-year students' entrance. 

"Harry, Mister Weasley, Miss Granger. May I be of assistance to you?" His calm attitude had the same effect than usual and Harry found himself relaxing.

"My scar hurt."

Immediately, Dumbledore examined Harry thoughtfully. 

"I see." He poured a cup of tea for each of the students and waited patiently. Voldemort had either to be upset or to use an Unforgivable curse for Harry to feel something trough his scar. Dumbledore had learned to let the boy explain at his own rhythm the harsh events.

"Voldemort was at the Riddle Manor earlier, with Wormtail. I think he took a little earth but I don't know for what." Harry paused.

"Really? Mmm… Interesting."

"There was a group of Muggles in the house. I think they were tourists; they had an American accent. They went in to take a look at the house and they found Voldemort." Harry frowned then. "Voldemort wanted to try something new, a curse to know where souls came from."

Hermione and Ron gasped, horrified. Dumbledore leaned forward, deadly serious. "Did it work, Harry?"

"I … Voldemort didn't think so because the Muggles were still alive afterward but I know something strange had happened. I was seeing the scene in slow motion but, even then, it was very fast. It was like last year with the…" Harry's voice broke. He paused, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this. When he opened his eyes, he looked resolute to continue. "It was like the shadows that were pulled from Voldemort's wand. Except they were forced out of their bodies. And brighter. There were threads that connected each of them with the others. Some of these threads also strayed away from them and faded. Then it stopped. It was almost like they were yanked back. It happened so fast." Harry was starting to get into the tale. "Wormtail said then that the Aurors had arrived. Voldemort tried to cast the killing curse but one of the men wounded him by throwing a knife. Wormtail and he left after that. Professor, what is he trying to do? Do you know what happened to the men in the house? Where are they now? Did the Aurors take them?" Harry hoped that they were all right. They had seemed to be good people. Furthermore, they weren't afraid of Voldemort and they had hurt him. In his book, this meant that they were great. He wished he could meet them.

Dumbledore seemed to be considering the questions. At long last, he started to reply.

"I am not entirely sure about what Voldemort is trying to do with the bit of earth. But I do know that tampering with souls is a tricky business. It is fortunate that he failed. The Unforgivable curses already give control of the body to the spell caster. It would be catastrophic if the Dark Lord could learn to control souls. Do you think Voldemort saw what you did?"

Harry tried to remember. The details were already blurring in his mind.

"I'm not sure. It happened very fast, even in slow motion. I could be wrong too. It could just have been an explosion of light and I imagined the rest. But I don't think so. I just have this feeling it could be very important." He turned pleading eyes towards Dumbledore. He needed him his trust.

"I believe you, Harry. As for your other questions, I can find out what happened to the men in the house. How many were they?"

"Six. No, seven. Four of them were barely older than us. They could have been college students. The three others were older. Two about 29 and the last about 35."

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you for your aid, Harry. I will see what I can do."

Hermione intervened then for the first time. "Sir? If the Muggles have seen Wormtail…" 

Harry interrupted her. "Of course! Sirius could be cleared!" Sirius Black, Harry's godfather had been framed for killing Peter Pettigrew who was none other than Wormtail. How could Harry not have thought of it? He could have kissed Hermione!

"As I said," Dumbledore smiled, "I will see what I can do. That would indeed be a great idea, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor for seeing aspects of a problem even I had not realised. Now, is it not time to go to sleep? We wouldn't want you to be caught by Filch after hours, would we?" he added with a wink from his twinkling eyes.

After wishing good night and good luck to the Headmaster, the three Gryffindors went back to their tower.

"'Mione, you're a genius!" Ron said.

"Don't exaggerate, Ron. You would eventually have thought of it, too," tried to protest Hermione, blushing.

"Ron is right," Harry broke in. "You are a genius. Even I did not think of it immediately and you know how much I want Sirius to be free!"

This time, Hermione gave in and took the compliment. Harry grinned.

Sirius Black's name was going to be cleared. His godfather was going to be free.

####

Somewhere in the States, a man looked up in a mirror. Outside the toilets, a woman's voice came, concerned.

"Mister Green, do you feel better now?"

The man was still looking at his reflection: blond hair, blue eyes, a pleasing face but nothing exceptional. Nothing unusual for a Man. He levelled his gaze to the pendant dangling from his neck. Suddenly, he tore it off and the image in the mirror changed.

"Thank you, Miss Brooke. I feel better now," the man answered, still looking in the mirror. He took a decision. "I'm going out in a minute. Would you be so kind to call me a taxi? I'm leaving."

"But, your job interview…" The voice sounded surprised.

"Your patron will have to find another potential employee. I have… a family emergency."

The man traced the outline of his reflection. The hair was longer now and the blond had become paler, almost silver. The blue eyes were deeper and more intense, like those of a bird of prey; the skin seemed to glow. But the most shocking change was his ears. They were pointed now.

"A family emergency," he repeated softly. Something had happened to the souls of the Fellowship. The elf could feel it in his heart, his mind and his own soul.

And thus, Lawrence Green, young architect looking for a job left the place as Legolas Thranduilion, one of the Nine Walkers. He had to find Mithrandir.  

####

Some time later, Legolas stood at the feet of the Winters, Springs & Green Building in New York. This enterprise had been created more than two hundreds years ago. A successful business with offices throughout the world but not very famous. The founders had wanted it so.

Under the names Winters, Springs and Green hid Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, formerly of Lorien; Lady Celebrian and Lord Elrond, of Imladris; and finally, his own father, Lord Thranduil, King of Eryn Lasgalen.

Ages past, the elves had tired of Middle-Earth and they had left for Valinor. With them, the magic left too and the Age of Man began. The dwarves, Aulë's children, dwindled and one day, disappeared from the surface of the planet; the Shire of the Hobbits became lost to men and the Ents fell asleep. But it was no longer the concern of the elves. In Valinor, they had lived in peace and bliss for innumerable years. Some of them, Elrond Half-Elven and his children in particular, had felt now and then the call of Middle-Earth but stayed on the Undying Lands.

Such was the state of affairs until, by the will of Iluvatar, the creator of Arda, the world of the humans changed. Middle-Earth was no more; the world east of Valinor was now simply called Earth. Furthermore, magic was back on the eastern shores and, with magic, the elves were drawn back toward the mortal world. 

Of course, they didn't come back all at once. Olorin, the Istari that some named Mithrandir or Gandalf was sent back first around five thousand years ago and he watched. He watched as the men shaped their new world and as they stayed unaware of the magic surrounding them. He then discovered the wizards, the humans who could use magic and he learned their craft. He watched them develop a society parallel to the non-wizards' one: the wizarding world.

Then, he came back on Valinor and taught this new magic to all who wanted to and who could, for like the men, not all the elves were wizards. All the elves possessed a kind of magic, but this magic was different from the one now found on the Eastern world. Among those who could use this magic, Galadriel, Elrond and Mithrandir, the bearers of the three elven Rings were the strongest. Together, they forged pendants for the elves that wanted to go back to Earth. These pendants' purpose was to hide the nature of the elves. Indeed, they acted like a very powerful glamour charm that did not only fool the eyes but also the touch. This spell couldn't be lifted as long as the pendants were borne.

Thus prepared, the elves came back. They blended among the humans, be they Muggles, Squibs, Witches or Wizards; they rediscovered this world and the humans' conflicts. Some elves took a side in the conflicts but most were content to let the power struggle pass, be it in the Muggle or the Wizarding world. 

Still, to keep better watch on these activities, the Winters, Springs & Green Enterprises were created. Their numerous offices assured an elven presence on all continents and almost all countries. It also served as a mean to contact Mithrandir for the one who was once named the Grey Pilgrim was still wandering.

This was the original reason of Legolas' presence in the Head Office. But when the disguised elf at the reception told him to go in the main conference****room on the last floor, he hadn't expected to find the Istari there, sitting beside the leaders of the three greatest elven-realms of the Third Age.

"So you felt it too." Mithrandir's voice was neutral, thoughtful as was his face.

"I did. Their souls were disturbed." Legolas didn't need to specify****whose souls he talked about. Having greeted the Istari in his way, he turned toward the others elves. "Father. Lord Elrond. Lady Galadriel."

They nodded to acknowledge his greetings and Thranduil motioned him to sit at his right. As if the elven Lords were only waiting for him to arrive, they started their council. 

"Mortals' fate is strange to us," said Elrond. "Once they die, they leave the circles of this world and whither they go, the elves cannot follow. There were but two exceptions. Beren was allowed to remain in the halls of Mandos until Luthien's choice and he went back with her to Middle-Earth until the end of their mortal days. The other case concerns you two." He turned to Mithrandir and Legolas. "The fate of each race cannot be changed by the Valar but for the mortals of the Fellowship, Iluvatar granted permission to remain in the circles of this world until the end of Arda. And then, you two will be allowed to rejoin them beyond this world. From then onwards, you were bonded. Your fate was their fate and theirs were yours. You already know this." Elrond was but posing a rhetorical question. He knew the last two members of the Fellowship of the Ring had never forgotten.

This news was the only thing that had stopped Legolas from dying from grief after the dwarf Gimli's passing. Still, he had long lingered in mourning but time and the certainty he would meet his friends again no matter what had allowed him to learn to bear the pain of their losses. That and the fact that they would not have wanted him to die on their behalf, among other reasons.

"Can you always feel their spirits?" Galadriel asked. "Think well about this, little Greenleaf, for the answer to this question leads to another."

Legolas frowned. She knew that he always felt their presence. He had told her so himself on several occasions. _Except_… 

"I always feel them, my Lady, although I don't always feel them near me." He searched to put his feelings into words. "Sometimes, it is as if the feel of their presence is different. As if they were passing from one circle of existence to another." Realisation dawned on him. Mithrandir too must have realised this for he continued.

"They are often beside us, invisible and intangible, offering us warmth when needed but sometimes, like during these last years, I feel as if they are far yet close to me. They are in the same circle as we are. They are reborn in flesh." Mithrandir's voice was full of wonder but he sobered immediately. "Then they are in danger."

Thranduil spoke then. "Only Voldemort, the dark wizard from Britain would be fool enough to try to manipulate souls. The British Ministry of Magic has been denying his return since the beginning of this summer but all the signs are there. It is as the first time he came to power: disappearances, mysterious deaths, gatherings of dark creatures. The fools." He snorted. "They would wait until their enemy has gathered enough troops to strike and crush them." He turned toward his son. "At least, your friends had the sense to take the initiative. Taking the One Ring to Mordor was an ultimately suicidal, crazy and stupid decision but it worked. And the evil they banished from Middle-Earth finally stayed banished. Mortals. Must they always do everything twice?"

Legolas chuckled softly. His father had just criticized mortals as a whole and subtly called Elrond crazy but he had given his friends a compliment, back-handed and lost among other insults as it was. Apparently, old age was mellowing his father. Had he said these words at the end of the Third Age, Gimli would have been thunderstruck. No. Gimli would be thunderstruck. The dwarf was alive and Legolas intended to track him down and tell him the news. He tried to imagine his reaction and smiled inwardly. The stunted one would refuse to believe him. Come to think of it, so would Aragorn. For the first time since Legolas had felt the disturbance, his heart eased and joy took over worry. His friends were back.

But immediately, another cause of worry crept in his mind. Mithrandir was right. They had come to Voldemort's notice and thus were in mortal danger, even if this Dark Lord was far from being half as powerful as Sauron. 

"What is the elves' position on the subject of Voldemort? Shall we reveal ourselves as we often speak of doing or shall we stay out of this as we did the last time?"

At these cautiously formulated words, Elrond leaned back in his chair and contemplated Legolas. Eventually, the former Lord of Imladris raised an eyebrow and answered in a wry tone, giving a sideways glance to Thranduil.

"We? Well, little Princeling, _we_ won't do anything before knowing more about this situation. _We_will especially avoid entering into random trolls' lairs. Have the wood elves no concept of the word discretion? Dark wizards are likely to become suspicious if they find theirs allies shot dead by arrows." 

"The Death Eater did not notice anything wrong, my Lord," Legolas defended himself, offended. He couldn't believe Elrond would choose this meeting to start yet another of his little spats with his father. _Can they not wait another day to throw veiled insults at each other?_ he thought. _The Fellowship is alive for now but they will not remain long remain so if they have come to Voldemort's notice_. He narrowed his eyes. In hindsight, Thranduil had thrown the first taunt when Mithrandir had first looked worried. If their spat could distract him and Mithrandir from their worry, he wouldn't put it beneath the two powerful Lords to willingly provoke each other. _Would it be such a bad thing?_ he wondered. _Our friends have survived their first encounter with Voldemort. This dark wizard does not usually take prisoners. If they are still alive, then that meant they managed to evade him. I know they are able to take care of themselves.  I need not worry needlessly. _

Still, letting his father and Elrond's efforts go to waste seemed a shame. Legolas took a petulant expression. "Anyway, it was your sons' fault, my Lord. No matter what they claim, I did not plan to enter the lair." He then opened wide innocent eyes and continued helplessly. "But I couldn't let the troll crush the twins, could I?"

Thranduil muttered something under his breath. To Mithrandir's ears on his left, it sounded a lot like "You should have. The wretched imps." 

"The House of Oropher has ever been swifter to kill evil than the House of Peredhil," he said conversationally aloud. "This is but a further proof of this well-known fact." **__**

With this sentence, the taunts left the realm of subtlety.

"I'll relay this to my sons. I am sure they will be able to find a … worthy argument to change your mind." 

Considering the twins were infamous mischief-makers, Mithrandir shuddered in sympathy. In front of him, Galadriel was wearing a semi-amused semi-long-suffering look. 

"Commiserations are in order, I believe," the Istari told her. "Your co-directors mean well but they are children, Galadriel. Allow me again to present my deepest sympathy." He leaned back to speak conspiringly to Legolas behind his father's back. "Legolas, I must congratulate you for your hard-won skill at making them go off at a tangent. We are both much too old to be so cuddled."

Legolas grinned in response.

Meanwhile, Elrond and Thranduil had decided to settle the issue another day. The Half-Elven cleared his throat. 

"To come back to more urgent matters, which do not include what my sons and you were doing so close to a troll's lair if you did not plan his demise," At these words, Legolas' eyes widened again slightly, as if shocked Elrond would suspect him of looking for trouble.

"As Elrond was saying," Galadriel intervened, glaring at the three younger elves until they looked properly apologetic, "we, the elves will do nothing for now." She freed them from her gaze. Her tone turned reflective. "The Time of the Elves has passed. We aren't the main race of Arda anymore. We cannot force our way into Men's decisions. But we cannot let a dark wizard grow to the like of Sauron." In times like this, her great power and age was still apparent despite the glamour. She focused on the youngest elf. "Legolas, you will go to England and find the Fellowship. Do then as you see fit."

Legolas froze. He had expected to go looking for the Fellowship and had planned to stay with them but the Lady's curt words implied she was giving him leave for far more than that. Galadriel was still scrutinizing him. After a moment, Legolas bowed to her, not a small feat as he was still sitting. She smiled then and turned her attention to Mithrandir.

"_Elvellon, _I have need of your counsel concerning the policy of the elves."

"You can count on my aid, then," he answered simply. "Legolas, would you send my greetings to our old friends? I fear I will be otherwise occupied for some time."

"Of course." Legolas nodded.

"Follow us. You will need one or two little things for this mission." His father and Elrond got up.

Lady Galadriel and Mithrandir were left together then, posing a striking picture. Mithrandir did not use a glamour charm since he had the form of a man but his long beard always looked out of place when he wasn't wearing wizard's robes. In old jeans and a faded checked shirt, the old man set a study in contrasts in front of the blonde young looking woman, impeccably groomed in a pristine business suit.

"And so it starts. It is time for the Eldar and the Edain to join again." More than any other Elda Galadriel had the gift of foresight. Legolas simply bowed in response and left the room.

####

Outside the reunion room, the two Lords had started bickering again. Legolas sighed. _They are doing this to get on my nerves. The twins and I are never that annoying!_ But it was true that, had their fathers been mortals, they would have lost all hair by now. As it was, aggravating their sons was one way to get back at them for all the lines the constant frowns had put on their faces. But the youngsters could put up with that.

Elrond and Thranduil's antagonism had not always been friendly. After the Battle of the Last Alliance on the slopes of Mount Doom, at the end of the Second Age, Thranduil had come back to Mirkwood with only a third of the Sindarin army. He had blamed the Noldor for this slaughter. A long time passed before the Sindar and the Noldor Lords were even on speaking terms. Thranduil was reputed for his ability to bear long grudges. The fact that their children had befriended each other helped at first. They had found common ground sympathising over the scrapes the young elves got into. They still did, especially when Thranduil's youngest child was the one involved with the twins.

Legolas cleared his throat to remind them of his presence.

His father merely lifted an eyebrow and, without breaking his 'conversation' with Elrond led the way toward the elevators. 

All elves were in essence magical. But, like the Men, some of them were wizards and other weren't. Unlike the men, the ability to do magic did not seem hereditary. Thranduil and his youngest son were proof of that. The King was a powerful wizard, almost on par with the three ring-bearers but Legolas could not perform the simplest spell. Still, the magic of this time affected all the elves in strange ways. They could feel and see the magic in this world and so couldn't be considered Muggles. Moreover, Muggle repelling spells had no effect on them. Actually, unless the elf on whom a spell was cast willingly subjected to it, no spell had effect. On the other hand, potions could affect the elves as could the curses placed on an object. In short, magic anchored in the physical world had the same effect on elves as on wizards.

Besides that, the elves who could do magic had the same abilities as a human wizard. The non-wizards elves could be considered Squibs for they could use magical objects even if they couldn't cast a single spell.

But even if no spell could affect Legolas, he needed to be able to deal with the physical threats. A resistance to magic would do him no good if a troll were to decide bashing his head in would be fun. 

The three elves left the elevators at ground level. They were heading towards the armoury, jokingly called danger room because of the variety of objects of dubious provenances stored inside. Among the list of objects were found weapons, old or new, holy water, all sorts of cloaks, broomsticks, decks of cards, the leash and some teeth of a dragon the twins tried to tame once, roller skates and souvenirs brought back by one or other elf. Glorfindel swore up and down he had seen a moving mummy in there.

The corridor leading to the armoury covered all the ground floor and was thus quite long. Legolas had already lost interest in the older elves' conversation and looked distractedly in the reception room when they passed before its entrance. He stopped cold. Some distance further, Elrond and Thranduil, engrossed in their argument, didn't notice.

"Elbereth…" he breathed.

Legolas stood still for some instants then, slowly, a broad grin spread across his face. Four people were verbally assaulting the receptionist, two women and two men. All of them were familiar to the youngest son of Thranduil. The Valar worked in strange ways. He should have expected it.

"Legolas?" His father and Elrond were coming back. "What are you waiting for?"

The younger elf's first response was a blink. His second was cryptic. "Mandos never said he was talking about the Fellowship of the Ring, did he?" 

Immediately after, he took a formal and solemn expression and yielded his position at the entrance of the reception room. 

"My lord Elrond, you may wish to see this."

Once upon a time, Elrond and Celebrian had three children: Elladan and Elrohir, the twins who were always willing to get into trouble and a daughter, the most beautiful female of her time, be it in body or in spirit. When she had chosen to bind herself to her mortal love, she had sealed a fate that would separate her from her father for eternity. But today, the Fellowship was back. Aragorn, her mortal love was back.

And so was Arwen Undomiel, the Evenstar of Imladris.

####

**To be continued.**

_Elvelon__: _elf-friend

Next chapter, back to the reborn ones: Muggles or not Muggles. There is The Question. (A close second being: Where do we go from there?)


	3. Chapter 2: Awakening

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, not even the mud on the sole of my shoes.  

Scroll down to find the reply to the reviews

Author's note: Are Tolkien's characters out of character? I suppose so. People change with time and Gandalf and the elves have been alive a long time. That's one reason. The other concerns the fellowship. They are more relaxed. I'm putting it on account of different circumstances, not so much responsibilities and grief and so on.

**Chapter Two: Awakening**

He was floating in a world of peace and safety. 

But that sensation felt wrong somehow. _What was happening? Oh yes. _He was unconscious. But beyond that? He gave a mental snort. At present, he remembered exactly why he hated so much being unconscious. He didn't know what was going on, where he was and, worse yet, he didn't know who was around him. _Fantastic way to get oneself killed._ He made an effort to wake up.

The first sense to come back was taste. _Heurk._ He hadn't brushed his teeth since some time. _Very useful information._ He very firmly told his mental voice to shut up. The mental voice just snickered back.

The second sense to come back was smell. He didn't smell anything particular at first. Just clean bed sheets. No. They were more than clean. _Sterilised_. Actually, even the air smelled of disinfectants.

The third sense was touch. He was lying on a bed and could feel the sun on his face. He could also feel another sensation but couldn't put his finger on it. _Oh. Pounding headache. How could I have missed this? _A doubt entered his mind. Something about the last time he had woken up this way. Was he wearing…? Yes, he was still wearing his own clothes_. No repeat performance of the kilt 'accident', then. Thank the Valar. _

So, still clothed, sanitised environment and headache. He was in a hospital of some sort. Hearing decided to make its entrance.

"…last to wake up. His companions refuse to answer the Aurors' questions until they have seen him." It was a woman's voice, very professional. A nurse?

"These Muggles were lucky." Another voice. A male one with more authority. The doctor? "The Death Eaters could have killed them easily if the Aurors had not arrived when they did."

_Easily killed? Them?_

"I'd love to see your Death Eaters try." _And pay for their presumption._ He finally managed to open his eyes. He blinked at once. He could see the sun through the window facing the bed. It wasn't very high yet but already bright. _What kind of person put beds in front of the sun?_

"Finally awake, I see. How do you feel?" the man asked. 

There was only one woman with him in the room. They were wearing white robes with a red cross in the front and in the back. Strange. _So the man who was wearing a skirt last week said._ He did the only thing to do in these cases and ignored his inner voice. He sat up on the edge of the only bed in the room. It was a hospital bed, as he had already guessed but he couldn't see any charts. The empty room was large and two decorative pillars cut the room in two. He recognised the Gothic style of the ornamentations_. _The only furniture of the room was a table on which were set strange looking bottles.

"Mister Muggle?" The man was trying to draw back his attention. He sounded annoyed. "How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"

"Fine. Have a headache. Got,"_ skewered by arrows by a band of Uruk-Hai and died in Aragorn's arms. _Stop. Rewind. Play again. Same scene. _Crap_. Fast forward, "into an abandoned house. Met a weirdo who did something to us. Passed out. That's all," _I'm going to tell you_, he added mentally.

"Do you remember your name?" 

"Bruce Ward." _But I am also Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor. _

"Well, you seem in good health. We'll tell your friends you're awake and that they can come in." For a doctor, that man sure did not seem overly concerned for his patient. Neither did the nurse. _What did I do to them? Drool on their robes while sleeping?_ But the couple had already closed the door behind them. He hadn't even had the time to ask the smallest question.

All he had to do now was to wait for the others to arrive and try to sort out his memories. He remembered his life as Boromir. His death. Then, there was a feeling of peace, warmth and companionship. Wherever he had been, he hadn't been alone. A feeling of wait too. Bruce's life. His friends. They looked as they did in their previous life, except of course the little fact that the hobbits and the dwarf were humans now. They also had modern hair-cuts. Adam and Aragorn, Gregory and Gimli, Sean and Sam, Matthew and Merry, Philip and Pippin and Frank. Frodo. Boromir groaned then. He had tried to take the Ring from Frodo and then had failed Merry and Pippin. _How are the little ones going to forgive me? More importantly, did the quest fail because of my weakness?_

The door banged open. "Bruce!"

He did not have to wonder long. Two blurs were coming right at him. He braced himself for the punches. 

They never came.

Instead, he had two young former hobbits trying to choke him to death by means of hugs.

"We thought you were dead," Philip, no, Pippin's voice came from his left.

"Try to do that again and we'll make sure you will wish to be dead," threatened Merry on his right.

Boromir did the only thing he could. He hugged them back.

"Three grown men fooling around on a bed. No wonder the nurses look at us strangely." Gimli. Despite his gruff tone, he was smiling fondly and so was Aragorn beside him. Boromir did a double take. Gimli was as tall if not taller as Aragorn. _Highly disturbing_. This time, Boromir let the inner voice get away with its wry comment. His eyes were going back and forth between the former dwarf – _definitely former dwarf_- and Aragorn. The latter shrugged helplessly. He too had a slightly troubled look in his eyes when he was looking at Gimli. The Ranger was also making discreet hand signals. _Oh_. Someone couldbe listening to their conversation. No use of former– _true?_ – names, then. 

Movements behind Gimli caught Boromir's eye. _Frodo and Sam,_ his mind supplied. They hadn't said anything, hiding from him. A flash of hurt went through him. _I deserve that._ Something must have shown on his face because Sam rolled his eyes. "Bigger men are so stupid."

At this, Frodo laughed and together, they moved to join the other hobbits. Sam walked around****the bed and jumped on his back, effectively trapping the man between three human-sized walls but Frodo had stopped in front of him. He was looking seriously at Boromir. 

"Bruce."

"Frank." _I'm sorry. _

"I am happy to see you too." _You're forgiven._ Frodo smiled and took the place Merry and Pippin had left free between them. At his turn, he undertook the task the others had started: smothering Boromir. _Hardy and strong man of Gondor, indeed! I am murdered by people happy to see me. _

Despite his wry inner comments, relief was flooding through Boromir. They had all forgiven him. But what had happened after his death? Where were Legolas and Gandalf? If he could come back from the dead, so should Gandalf. But he had a more urgent problem on his hands.

"Can't… br..breathe," he tried to say. Fortunately, one of the hobbits must have understood his plight and warned the others.

"Oh, sorry." The little imps sounded totally unrepentant but they released him. He ran back that sentence in his head. The Little People weren't so little anymore. Pippin was almost as tall as him. He shook his head. He would have to stick to Bruce's 'kids' if he wanted to give them a nickname.

When he looked back at Aragorn, the other man had come closer and was extending a hand to help him up. He stared first at the hand then followed the arm up to Aragorn's face. The former Ranger raised a quizzical eyebrow but the rest of his face was impassive. Deciding two could play this silent game, Boromir nodded –_let him translate that as he wishes_- and took the hand. 

He realised at Aragorn's roguish grin he had made a mistake. Boromir was suddenly yanked to his feet and crushed in the other man embrace's. _When did they decide today would be a good day to asphyxiate me?_ But his own free arm was squeezing the Ranger with all his strength. "By the way," Aragorn's breath was right beside his ear. "Welcome back." After these words, Boromir was released and held back at arm's length. "But Matt is right. Try to do that again and you'll live to regret it."

The son of Gondor snorted, amused. "Who am I to contest your say?" 

Gimli was the only one who had yet to greet him_._ Boromir turned questioning eyes towards him. He was rewarded by an indignant look and a huff. "If you expect me to hug you, Mister Ward, you are either more foolish than I ever imagined or you took a bigger hit falling on your head than the nurses anticipated." Expectantly, all looked at the rust-bearded man. "Still, I am glad to see you well." 

That drew chuckles from everyone. The dwarf's manners were still gruff and he still could not bear fools but his heart was in the right place. That hadn't changed despite his appearance. _By the gods, the Dwarf is **tall**!_

"Where are…" Boromir interrupted himself. What could he call Legolas and Gandalf without using the nowadays strange names?

"Our other friends?" Thankfully, Aragorn seemed to understand. "They didn't come to England with us, remember? We'll probably meet up later." 

That made sense. Bruce wasn't born knowing all the others. Adam and he had only met up with the hobbits and Gimli last year. They would find the two missing companions later. Although… _Aren't elves supposed to be immortal? Never mind for now. _He had other questions. He opened his mouth but Aragorn didn't let him the time to ask.

"We are currently at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Apparently, we've been attacked by dark wizards who are wanted by the law. They want to interrogate us on what we saw."

"Magical?" 

Aragorn's only reaction was to lift an eyebrow and to direct his gaze towards the wall at the head of the bed. The former son of Gondor followed his stare. The painting of a woman hung on the wall. A moving woman who waved at him and winked. Bemused, Boromir bowed his head as salute. Magic, then. _Why not? _After all, he had seen elves, orcs, a Ring of Power and a Balrog; he was in presence of a former dwarf and four former hobbits and he was here because a wizard had attacked him. Was the existence of magic harder to believe in than in these? He turned back towards Aragorn.

"The nurses have been going on and on about the fact we would have been killed had the Aurors arrived later because us, Muggles, are not very high on the list of favourite peoples of the Death Eaters. Apparently, Death Eaters are the name the wizards who tried to kill us give themselves and Muggles are people who aren't wizards. Personally, I think we did well." 

"_Did we?_" The Son of Gondor glanced meaningfully at Frodo who was arguing about something with the other hobbits and rubbed his finger before looking back at Aragorn. The Ranger looked puzzled for a while then smiled.

"Well, considering the odds, we performed _remarkably_ well." 

Boromir closed his eyes in relief. They had saved Middle-Earth from Sauron. They had done it. They had really done it. He opened his eyes in a flash. _What of my home? What of the __White__City__?_ But Aragorn had already changed subjects. He would have to ask later.

"Anyway, the charming nurses here do not seem to like Muggles either but they have not tried to kill us. _Yet_." 

The last word was addressed to Merry and Pippin, who were examining the bottles on the table. At Aragorn's stress, they looked up and smiled unapologetically. The Ranger shook his head but let it pass.

"They have also informed us that there isn't anything wrong with us and they do not think the Death Eaters cursed us. Apparently," the amusement in Aragorn's voice was unmistakable and he waited until he had Boromir's undivided attention, "we fainted."

Boromir blinked then narrowed his eyes. "You. Are. Shitting. Me."

"I wish," Pippin replied. "Bruce, tell Adam that we have the right to play pranks on this kind of people. Even Greg agreed with us."

"Do I want to know?" 

Aragorn took a faraway look, shuddered then closed his eyes in distaste.

"You may want to be able to plead ignorance."

Boromir thought back to what he knew of the Hobbits' pranks and of the Dwarf's retaliations to Legolas for his offended pride.

"I'll plead ignorance."

"A wise decision." The Ranger's voice was wistful. He rather looked as if he wanted to drink Morn Nen water, should what Boromir had heard about it prove true.

Someone knocked at the door. "Showtime."

####

Two men in their early thirties wearing black robes entered the room. _The Aurors?_They were followed by a third man who strongly reminded Boromir of Gandalf. He certainly had enough beard to pass for him and behind half-moon glasses, he had the same twinkle, the same benevolent look in his blue eyes. Unlike the two other men, he was wearing richly decorated green robes. Judging by the curious looks from the members of the Fellowship, he hadn't been here earlier.

"Are you ready to answer our questions, _this time_?" One of the men in black said impatiently. The other one rolled his eyes and the old man shook his head. Boromir shared a look with his own companions.

"_Jerk,_" Merry mouthed, confirming Boromir's impression. Out loud, he said, "Not yet. We haven't been introduced to everyone. "

"True," the second man is black said.  Turning to Boromir, he started the introductions, "I am Wallace Derek and this is Jared Conrad. We are Aurors. You could say we are the wizard equivalent of the Muggle police." He turned to towards the old man, "This is Professor Albus Dumbledore, an eminent member of our society. He has expressed an interest in learning your story. Do you mind his presence?" Despite his professional tone, Derek sounded confused by Dumbledore's presence.

Looks passed between the members of the Fellowship. The old man's appearance was obviously not usual. Why then would he be here in particular? Nobody but the Fellowship and the aggressors knew what had happened and the Fellowship hadn't talked yet. But the company had learned to discern evil and the old man didn't look or feel evil. Finally, Frodo sighed. They did not have enough information to play the guessing game. "He can stay but I want to know why he is so interested."

Conrad took an offended look but Dumbledore only chuckled. 

"Let's say I have my sources of information, my boy. What you know could be of use for me."

A cryptic answer. That man was reminding Boromir more and more of Gandalf. _Too bad he isn't him._ He blinked. How could he be so sure of that?

"Well, you remind me a lot of an old friend of ours. We would be honoured to be able to aid you though I do not know how," Frodo had chosen to let him stay, then. He leaned back on the edge of the bed beside Boromir. The others hobbits joined them.

"Don't worry about it. I may just ask you to repeat something that might interest me." 

Boromir frowned and looked at the others. Gimli had moved to stand beside a pillar. _All the__ better to duck behind, my dear. _Aragorn was opposite him, leaning back on a wall almost out of sight from the newcomers, but from his position, he could see everyone in the room and he was currently studying Dumbledore. The old man sounded so sure of himself he had to know something. Still, the Ranger shook his head slightly. He wanted to wait and see for now.

Frodo took the lead. "My name is Frank Peterson and these are Sean Davis and the cousins Matt and Phil Carter. We are college students. Gregory Morrison is a doctor of geology and Bruce Ward and Adam Dawson are cops. We are Americans and we are on a road trip. When we passed by Little Hangleton, the villagers told us the story of a nearby house, the Riddle Manor. We went inside to take a look and eventually, we all ended up in the kitchen. By the way, do you know what happened to the owners of that house?"

_Smooth,_ thought Boromir. The man with the red eyes had told them he had killed them. The small cowering man had said that the Aurors had wards on this house. Thus, the Aurors must know something. Frodo was sharp enough to pick up that little fact. Would the supposed good guys answer him?

"Does it matter?" answered Conrad. But his brow was twitching. "It's done. Continue your tale," he ordered. _Fear._ Fear was lurking in his voice and in his eyes. _What's going on?_ Boromir's mind wondered.

"May I suggest later explanations?" Dumbledore intervened. He seemed to have noted the company's interest. Aragorn redressed himself slightly, tilted his head and re-examined the old man. Dumbledore must have sensed his gaze for he turned to face the Ranger. But before that, he gave an amused gaze to Boromir. The warrior snorted internally. The old man had recognised their casually defensive stance and was willingly and consciously turning his back to him. _Either he is a fool or he is very powerful. How very Gandalf-like. _

"Phil opened the back door and there was this freak with red eyes," Frodo resumed their story before pausing again slightly. "You know, I don't think he was wearing contact lenses," he added conversationally. 

"What happened then?" Derek's voice was strained to stay polite. Boromir could have sympathised if he wasn't on Frodo's side. The former hobbit was stalling for time. He still didn't know how truthful he would have to be. Beside Derek, Conrad looked down at Frodo with contempt. _That guy is getting on my nerves. _Conrad acted as if he was superior to the men of the Fellowship. Fortunately, Dumbledore and Aragorn broke their staring contest at this moment. When the son of Arathorn turned back his eyes towards Frodo, his gaze was thoughtful and he nodded towards the Professor. When he looked at the two Aurors, he shook his head. _What?_

"He was followed by another man," Frodo continued, "this one sounded terrorised. The first man babbled about Muggles and about souls, cast a spell and I passed out."

"Did everyone pass out?" Derek asked.

Boromir saw Aragorn open his mouth reluctantly but Gimli was faster.

"No. Adam, Bruce and I were still conscious. He tried to cast another spell, Avada something and Adam threw a knife at him. People were coming then and the little man and he disappeared."

"You wounded a Death Eater?" Conrad was astonished. Boromir wasn't sure if it was because a Muggle had wounded a wizard or because Aragorn could throw a kitchen knife straight. Actually, it was remarkable that he could hit a target at all with a kitchen knife.

"In the shoulder," Aragorn replied neutrally.

"Lucky shot," scoffed Conrad. He believed in the superiority of wizards, then. A surge of fury coursed through Boromir but he didn't have the time to do anything about it.

"Actually, I missed," _What? _Aragorn had a dangerous glint in his eyes. He deadpanned, "I was aiming for his throat." 

Before Conrad could react, Dumbledore asked another question, "Did they give their names?"

Flippantly, Merry answered. "Voldie and Wormie."

The three wizards blinked. The Aurors looked puzzled but, slowly, a broad grin was making its way on Dumbledore's face.

"Voldie, indeed," he chuckled. "What a delicious nickname. I have no doubt Lord Voldemort would hate it."

Conrad and Derek gasped then. Derek recovered first and confronted Dumbledore, "Is that why you've asked me to put wards on this house?"

"Impossible." 

"My source has told me the same tale than them," Dumbledore explained patiently. "The Ministry of Magic may want to revise their opinion. Harry Potter is not the only one to have seen Voldemort since his return anymore."

"You-Know-Who is dead!" Conrad said adamant. "And the Potter boy is crazy. It was in the Daily Prophet."

Gimli intervened, "I know who?"

The tension between the three wizards could be cut with a knife but Dumbledore remained calm. He turned to answer Gimli's question.

"Lord Voldemort is a Dark Lord who killed hundreds of Muggles and of wizards during his first rise to power, until fourteen years ago. I have all the reasons to believe the Riddles were his first victims. Most wizards are afraid to call him by his name. They prefer to say You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or simply the Dark Lord. His followers are called the Death Eaters."

"Wouldn't not using his true name scare people even more?" Sam asked. "I mean, if you don't know what you're facing, wouldn't you be more scared?" 

"Yeah," Pippin added. "You're giving him even more power. It's not like the darkness is so great that it hurts to say his name. And what's up with dark lords and changing names?"

_The darkness is so great that it hurts?_, Boromir repeated mentally. _Oh, Little Ones, what has happened after my passing?_ _You never should have had to know these things. _Meanwhile, silence had fallen in the room as realisation dawned on Pippin. What he and Sam had said was right but Phil had no reason to know of these things. He tried to cover up for his mistake.

"It's like Darth Vader in Star Wars, the movie, you know? He changed names when he turned to the dark side."

The wizards didn't seem to be falling for it. Pippin needed another diversion. Boromir searched his mind despairingly for another appropriate subject.

"Who is Harry Potter?" Gimli blurted out. _Thank the Valar._ Arguing with the elf had apparently given Gimli a quick wit. _Perhaps I should get into a pissing contest with Legolas, too. Never know when these skills could come at hand._

For a time, nobody answered. Finally, Conrad and Derek turned towards Gimli but Dumbledore was still eying Pippin.

"Harry Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived," Derek said. "Nearly fourteen years ago, You-Know-Who killed his parents. But when he tried to kill the baby, he was vanquished. Nobody quite knows how. From this encounter, the boy only kept a scar on his forehead. He is very famous for that even if he is still in school. The school where Albus is Headmaster, to be exact. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Speaking of him, Dumbledore had shifted his focus from Pippin to Aragorn. Aragorn was staring back at him with steely eyes. Thankfully, the old man was slightly behind the two Aurors and they hadn't noticed any of his little games until now.

"The newspapers say he is nuts," added Conrad. "He is trying to be interesting, becoming the fourth champion at the Tri-Wizard tournament, befriending half-giants and complaining from phantom pains from his scar." Beside Boromir, Frodo flinched. The other hobbits glowered at Conrad and closed ranks around their friends. Sam looked fit to kill. Once again, Boromir wondered what had happened after his death. 

"Never mind Harry Potter for now," Dumbledore said softly. But the twinkle in his eyes had been replaced by ire. "No matter what the papers say, the poor boy never asked for this attention. He never asked for any of the attention he has." _Damn!_ The old man was angry on behalf of the boy and now Boromir could feel the power he wielded. He had to stop himself from taking a step back. _Unassuming at first sight and then he drops a bombshell at your doorstep. Really reminiscent of Gandalf._ Conrad looked as if he wished for a chasm to open beneath his feet. After a moment, Dumbledore calmed down and turned back towards the Fellowship. A couple of minutes passed in silence. At least this little outburst of power had allowed time for the hobbits to cool their anger towards Conrad. 

"Voldemort spoke of souls. What did he say precisely?"

This time, Aragorn answered.

"Voldemort..."

"Do not use this name," Conrad growled. He was still shaking slightly but did not seem to know when to quit. That was very annoying. Fear and denial had never helped anyone resolve a situation. Aragorn too would probably snap at him and _…smile sweetly at him? That's going to be good._ The last time the son of Denethor had seen that particular sugar coated smile, the elf had been wearing it and five minutes later, the dwarf had found his smoking weed stash spoiled by pointed-eared squirrels.

"As you wish. Does Voldie suit you better?" Aragorn asked innocently. Conrad could only stand gaping at him. "No objections? Voldie first said he didn't have a soul anymore then he asked us if we knew where souls were coming from. He spoke of a new curse he had created and he cast it on us. I believe he said '_Priori spiriti reversio'."_

Conrad opened his mouth again but Derek sent him a "keep quiet" look. A little late, but it was still a good decision.

"I felt as if I was pulled out of my body and I think I screamed. We all did. Suddenly, we were back into our bodies. And then you know the rest." Well, technically, Aragorn hadn't lied. They had just recovered some memories along the way, fact he could have covered by forgetting to specify the meaning of 'we' as reincarnated souls from ages past.

"Thank Merlin it didn't work," said Derek. "As if the Death Eaters needed another killing curse. Well, I believe this is all. Thank you for your collaboration." He took out his wand.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Merry shouted. Automatically, Boromir put himself in front of the hobbits and Gimli and Aragorn dropped into fighting stances. For the first time, the Aurors seemed to notice their surrounded position and paled. _Green, these men are green. I never had the luxury of making these mistakes. At least they realise they don't have the time to take all of us down._

"I believe there is a misunderstanding somewhere," Derek finally said. He was making efforts to appear calm and collected. _Green but he has good nerves. He could have been good if he had some experience to back him. _As to Conrad, he wasn't making any effort to control himself. If he had had the time to take his wand and curse them all, he would have. Dumbledore was merely looking …_amused? _Boromir mentally shook his head._ That's not courage under fire but pure madness._ "It is standard procedure to cast a memory charm on the Muggles who learn the truth about wizards. It's for security, you see. We were not about to attack you. Surely you do not want to preserve****these memories?"

"Why not?" Gimli asked.

"Well," Derek seemed to be really thinking about this. "Muggles who learn the existence of magic by accident tend to panic and they all want to provoke a witch hunt. True wizards have ways to defend themselves but innocent Muggles who are suspected of being wizards do not. During past witch- hunts, those were the ones who were burned alive. This policy seeks to avoid this kind of slaughter." 

"We are not panicking," said Aragorn. Strangely, he was looking at Dumbledore, not at Derek.

"I can see that," the old man answered. "Wallace, I think for this time, these Muggles can keep their memories. They will give us their word not to talk about this to anyone. After all, Muggle-born students talk about Hogwarts to their parents and close friends and they do not provoke a witch hunt, do they?"

Derek considered the question and lowered slowly his wand. "Well, gentlemen, do we have your word of honour not to talk about what you've discovered to other Muggles?"

"Mister Derek? I don't think we're Muggles," Pippin noted.

"We are not?" Aragorn, surprised, had tensed at these words.

"Well, we four aren't, anyway," Merry said, pointing towards the four hobbits. _What are they talking about?_ "You see, when we were eleven, we've received a letter from a school of magic in the States by owl. We just chose not to go. It went out of our minds but the point is we already knew about the wizarding world. And if we had gone, we would have told our friends."

Jaws dropped in astonishment throughout the room. They had been one inch away from a fight that didn't even have a point because the kids _knew? _Dumbledore recovered first and chuckled slightly. A mischievous glint was in his eyes when he turned towards the hobbits.

"I have this project that might interest you. I always found it was a shame that wizard schools only send their enrolment letter once. Those who refuse to go the first time do not have the choice anymore if they ever have a change of heart. I want to change that. Would you be willing to spend a year at Hogwarts to learn to use your powers?"

That was an unexpected development.

"Yes." Boromir blinked. 

"Adam? That question was addressed to the kids. You can't reply for them."

"Sorry. But you really should take this opportunity. In my humble opinion, of course." _Humble opinion?, _Boromir thought, disbelieving. The blood of Numenor flowed in Aragorn's veins and he had been raised by Elrond, the Loremaster of Rivendell. He did not do _humble opinion_. 

He did foresight. _Wait a minute. Since when do I trust him so much?_

"Oh."

Pause. 

"We are accepting your offer, then, Professor Dumbledore." The hobbits, as well as Boromir, might not understand the reasoning behind Aragorn's suggestion but they trusted him. In the end, that's all that mattered to make the decision. 

Derek seemed to be satisfied by this turn of the events and tucked back his wand into his belt. With a look, he urged Conrad not to take his out while Gimli and Aragorn took place besides their friends near the bed. Gimli had a slightly sardonic look in his eyes when he passed beside Conrad. The Auror flushed red but didn't say anything. _Good. He's learning._

"Good. I have a last question then. This is a really important matter for … some people I know and for myself." Dumbledore looked at each of them to make them understand the seriousness of his request. The twinkle was gone from the light blue eyes. Instead, they had taken a hard glint. "Could you identify the man who was accompanying Voldemort? Wormtail?"

"I think so," answered Pippin. The others nodded or grunted their agreement.

"Here are some wizard pictures. Will you please point the man you saw to the Aurors?"

He took out some photos from his robe. Shrugging, the Fellowship shared the pictures and started looking. They had two pictures each. Stunned, Boromir saw the man on his first picture move and give him the bird. _Interesting character._He looked at the second photo. As on the first, the man was blond but neither were Wormtail.

"I think I've got him," Frodo said quietly. He was looking at a wedding picture. The groom and the bride – _pretty redhead_ – were lost in each other's eyes. Besides them, three young men of the same age were laughing, wolf-whistling and making gagging faces. The smallest one was Wormtail.

"He didn't have a silver hand, then," Gimli noted.

"You have identified a Death Eater? Which one is it?" Derek asked.

Frodo gave him the photo. The reaction was immediate. Derek sucked in a breath and turned angrily towards Dumbledore.

"Sirius Black!" he hissed. "Professor Dumbledore, I understand your attachment for the Potter boy but we are doing all we can to capture again You-Know-Who's right hand_._ There is no need to remind us of that situation_._ This time, we will not lock him up but immediately put him down like the … _the monster_ he is," _Interesting_. The little blond hadn't seemed to be able to do as much damage as Derek's enraged tone implied. Well, looks could be deceiving.

"Wallace." Dumbledore's voice sounded patient but there was a command in his eyes. "If you would let our guests indicate the man they saw, the situation will become clearer."

"Very well, Professor. For the sake of our friendship, I will do this. But you will stop pushing the Ministry's limits." He turned towards Boromir and snapped "Which one?"

The son of Denethor called upon the reserves of patience he had managed to acquire in both his lives to try to answer civilly. It still wasn't much but he didn't bite Derek's head off. "The blond," he answered curtly.

Derek's anger turned to confusion. 

"Pettigrew? But Black killed him."

"Sirius always claimed his innocence, Wallace. It could have been proven if there had been a trial."_ Just how high were the tensions to imprison an innocent man?_ Boromir wondered. Prior his departure for Rivendell, his father had executed a man for treason. The man had tried to help the Easterlings to reap the benefits of Gondor's fall but that wasn't the true reason of his death. The people were afraid and had needed a scapegoat so the Steward had given them one. Had this man not been caught, Denethor would have found another scapegoat to ease the tensions. Would he have condemned an innocent? 

"He was the Potters' Secret Keeper and they died. Explain to me how he can be innocent," Derek demanded.

"The Potters changed Secret Keeper at the last minute. But I am not asking you to clear his name without further proofs. I am asking you to tell the Ministry that Pettigrew is alive, working for Voldemort and thus that Sirius cannot have killed him. _Sirius Black should not be killed on sight," _Dumbledore insisted.

"Albus! I do not have the authority to change these orders and you need more proof than a few Muggles' word. How can we be so sure the wizard they met was not only impersonating You-Know-Who? Considering the Death Eaters' resurgence of activity this summer, I wouldn't put it past them to do this to scare us," Derek argued. 

"You also have Mr Potter, Weasley and Lupin's word as well as Miss Granger's and mine."

"Most people think that you're crazy and your other witnesses are three children and a werewolf!"

"I will accompany you to the Ministry to speak of this." Dumbledore proposed. "The Minister will not be able to hide for much longer. Voldemort is going to strike soon and we need to be ready for him."

"Fudge will not believe you. And I'm not sure if I do." 

Dumbledore did not present another argument. Exasperated, Derek threw up his arms in defeat and turned away from him. The old wizard let the Auror throw his temper tantrum and resumed speaking.

"Anyway, I will have to go there to tell them I have new students. But, as for you," he was addressing Aragorn, Bruce and Gimli, "I don't know yet what I am going to do with you."

"Do you have a self-defence class?" Gimli asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore seemed surprised. So were Aragorn and Boromir. _Well, it is a good idea,_ Boromir conceded._ And it will allow us to stay with the kids._

"A self-defence class. How to duck, to fall without hurting oneself, to fight bare-handed or even how to cut one's losses and run like hell. We could teach that. Your people sound like they are going to need it." 

"An intriguing and generous idea."

"A selfish idea, Professor. They are staying with us no matter what. Say yes. It'll spare you trouble. You don't want to know at what lengths they could go to track us down, magic or no magic," Merry broke in cheerfully.

"And they are really good in a fight. Greg is former military and Adam and Bruce are cops." Pippin added. "If you want the best to teach your students how to defend themselves, you should say yes. From what I've seen, you wizards need wands to do magic. If one of your students lose theirs or do not have time to take it out, they still wouldn't be defenceless." Derek and Conrad tensed at these words but Pippin ignored them and kept talking. "And we really would like to stay together, so if you say no, Frank, Sean, Matt and me will just… Yes?" At Frodo's nudge, Pippin had stopped talking.

"Phil, I believe the Professor is trying to answer." Frodo warned, grinning. He then raised an amused eyebrow at Sam who addressed Dumbledore. "If you say no, we'll give you hell. You were saying?"

"Yes."

"We can cause a lot of trouble, just ask Bruce. Are you sure about this yes?" Pippin paused. "_Yes?"_

"I believe that is what I said." Dumbledore replied, chuckling.

"YES!" The hobbits were grinning like fools and they danced around the three older men. The latter merely shook their heads at these antics but they were grinning too.

"This is settled then, I will bring you all to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "I wonder how Severus will react. Muggles teaching at a wizarding school." He chuckled.

"I can think of half a dozen points to argue it's a bad idea but you are not going to listen, are you?" Derek remarked. When Dumbledore opened his mouth to answer, the younger man simply shook his head. The Headmaster had made up his mind. For the Auror, it meant that trying to influence his decision would be an exercise in futility. Boromir found himself pitying him. He was trying to do his job and the old man was not making it any easier for him.

"Well, the Aurors and I should be going. But I think it would be wiser if you waited for me in the gardens, far from the nurses. I never imagined a mix of potions could have had this particular effect. What did you use?" The old man asked the hobbits. 

Merry waved the question away, "Not much, you know. A little of this, a little of that."

"The young Weasley twins would have loved to see this. Anyway, do you need anything before we leave?"

Gimli grunted and shook his head and the two cops shrugged. That left the hobbits with a speculative look in their eyes. Finally, Pippin turned to answer.

"Food?"

####

The gardens behind St Mungo's Hospital could not have been called gardens by any modern Muggle's standards, had one even been able to contemplate them. These grounds would rather have been called a park. A massive park full of shimmering flowers, statues, fountains and covered in places by copses of trees. Several alleys lined by Japanese cherry trees crossed the so-called gardens, meandered and intersected with each other before going their own way again. But sooner or later, by a longer or a shorter path, they all led to the top of a mound in the centre of the gardens to encircle a large fountain ornamented by the statue of a giant hippocampus. It was there, away from the personal from the hospital, that Dumbledore left the reborn mortals of the Fellowship to announce to the Ministry of Magic their admission among the teaching Staff and the students of Hogwarts. The Headmaster didn't think this decision would be contested. Apparently, he had free rein at the school. 

But the gardens were not only a place where the Fellowship would be safe from the nurses' revenge. It was also a place where they could talk freely.

So, talk they did. Well, they tried at first.

"Aragorn, what were you playing at with Dumble…"

"How dangerous do you think getting involv…"

"Does anyone know how we can be here in the flesh?"

"Where do you think Gandalf and Legol…"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

At Gimli's impressive bellow, all fell silent. Aragorn and Boromir shared a look and eyed Gimli suspiciously. Eventually, the former King of the Reunified Kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor expressed the thought that had been plaguing them since this morning.

"You're tall."

"And they dare to say dwarves have a way with the obvious. Aragorn, you and Boromir have been staring at me like I've grown a second head. I'm taller. So are the hobbits. Yet, I don't see you looking at them like that."

"I suppose we don't. But…" Boromir paused. He couldn't find the words to express his discomfort. Instead he shook his head.

"But?" Gimli growled impatiently. "I have spent 36 years in this body. I am used to it. So should you be."

"Gimli," Aragorn began to say, "These hobbits are among the bravest and most valorous people I've ever met. I know they can do well in any situation because they are who they are. Their current height does not change that. But you, my friend, you were a dwarf. You looked like a dwarf, you talked like a dwarf and you acted like a dwarf. And dwarves are just… not tall," he finished lamely.

Gimli stared disbelievingly at him.

"In other words, Men perceived Dwarves like immovable objects," Pippin explained, amused and smug. "They are about this tall, they have a beard, an axe, and they like good ale, earth and stone. They are not tall. On the other hand, Hobbits are irresistible forces."

"Irresistible forces?" Boromir snorted. "Do not flatter yourself, Master Peregrin Took. Personally, I would use the terms 'highly adaptable little critters'."

"Well, Master Boromir, I will have you know you are insulting a guard of the White Tower."

"And as such, you owe respect and obedience to the son of one Steward and the brother of another." Aragorn interjected.

"You become a guard? And Faramir was steward?" These were news to Boromir. He turned to Aragorn. "What happened after my death?" 

"We won."

Boromir waited expectantly for further explanations. When none came, he sighed, crossed his arms and growled sarcastically, "Aragorn. You were a man. You still are a man. Will you please stop acting like an elf?"

"I was raised by elves, Boromir." The Ranger defended himself. "I am bound to speak like one from time to time."

"You did not only speak like an elf. You deliberately gave me an answer that would infuriate me. That's acting like an elf."

"He has a point," Merry pointed out to his other companions. "It's just like old times, don't you think?"

"What old times? Adam and Bruce still bicker like that," Pippin snickered slightly. It was true. Yesterday, none of them might have remembered their past lives but they still owned the same souls and the same personalities. And Aragorn and Boromir's personalities had … clashed, especially at the beginning of their association. Eventually, they had become good friends but Boromir had died not long afterwards. Bruce and Adam had had more time to be friends. They had learned to resolve their disputes and to obtain what they wanted from the other. 

Thus, Boromir managed to hear what had happened during the War of the Ring and afterwards, the joyful or sad events of his friend's lives. But at first, the most important for him was to learn that Gondor had been saved. It didn't matter that he would never see the White Tower of Ecthelion again. More than his home or his duty, more than his whole life, Minas Tirith had been the symbol of the strength of Men. And the strength of Men had not failed before darkness.

Aragorn's story finished at his death after 120 years of rule as the High King of the Reunified Lands of Arnor and Gondor and Boromir turned to Frodo and Sam. The two ringbearers had sailed to Valinor so he had not heard what had become of them. 

"I went to the Undying Lands, healed and I waited for Sam and Legolas to arrive," Frodo answered, smiling. "Sam and I led a calm life. The only exciting event was Gimli's arrival with Legolas. Actually, he is the most long-lived of us all."

Everyone beside Sam, Frodo and Gimli were surprised. "Gimli?" 

As if the idea of one dwarf in Valinor was not preposterous enough, the same dwarf had an explanation about the state of their souls. He put it rather succinctly.

"It's the elf's fault."

In fact, Gandalf too had his share of responsibility. It would seem the Valar and Ilúvatar himself had granted that '_their fellowship, forged in darkness to defeat it and true to each other even in death_' stay together for eternity. Both Gandalf and Legolas were immortal and bound to Arda. As long as Arda existed, they would remain there. After its end, the elf and the Istari would be allowed to follow their friends beyond the circles of this world. Meanwhile, the mortals would stay on Earth, in the same circles, to stay close to their friends. Blaming Legolas was then strangely accurate. Because of him and Gandalf, their fellowship still belonged to this world.

And if they still belonged to this world, no matter how changed it was since the Third Age of Middle-Earth, it meant that Legolas and Gandalf were still alive. The fellowship only had to find them. 

"That's easier said than done," Frodo commented.

None of them had noticed the existence of the magical world before this day. If wizards could pass unnoticed in the Muggle world, so could the elves in the magical world. But that thought already supposed the elves had left Valinor. The fellowship would rather not linger on the possibility they hadn't.

"They could run into us some day and recognize us," Sam wondered wishfully.

"Or we could give them a hand," Aragorn said. "I have the impression this is not the first time we are reborn. The current history makes no mention of Middle Earth. It could have been dozens of thousand years since the Third Age. Somehow, I don't think we spent all that time bodiless. This time, we have our memories so we could make them look for us."

"And how do you suggest this, master Aragorn?" Gimli asked dubiously. "Publish an ad in the newspapers? Reborn souls from the end of Third Age looking for wood-elves and Istari?"

"It's a start but I imagined a message more discreet. After all, we do not want Voldemort to know his curse worked," Aragorn answered.

Boromir bit back his next comment. From what he had heard about the situation among the wizards, Voldemort was a problem. The authorities of this world refused to believe in his return, which left him plenty of openings to gather his forces and to make his first move. He did not know a lot about wizards and their abilities yet, but he knew that kind of man was dangerous. If he had killed hundreds of people the last time before being stopped, he would do so again and maybe do even more damages. The only other Dark Lords Boromir had ever heard about were Morgoth and Sauron and they had … killed more than a few hundred people given enough time. The official authorities did seem to deny this threat, which made Dumbledore the only known opponent to Voldmort, the only one trying to stop him.

"So, what do you think of Dumbledore?" he asked eventually.

A thoughtful****look crossed Aragorn's grey eyes and he stared behind him, towards the spot in which the old man had stood before _disapparating__._ At long last, he answered.

"He is trying to protect his students but first and foremost, he is trying to stop Voldemort. By letting us teach self-defence at his school he expects to accomplish these two goals. He knows something is up with us and seeks to keep us away from the dark wizard."

"You can't be sure of that," Sam said.

"Can you be sure of the contrary?" Aragorn shot back. Sam opened his mouth to answer but thought better of it. He sighed and conceded the point.

"He knows," Frodo agreed. "He knew more than the Aurors about the situation when he entered the room and we may have confirmed his guesses."

"I think we can trust him," Aragorn resumed. "Up to a point, anyway. If he asks what happened, we shouldn't lie but there is no need to extend too much on our past lives. We helped defeat an evil and we do not want to see another take its place in this life. That's why we proposed our help. Objections?"

The others shook their head.

There was only one subject left. If they were going to Hogwarts for one year, they had arrangements to make. The hobbits wouldn't have any problems as they had taken a sabbatical year. They only needed to warn their family and relations about the change of plans. As to Gimli, he decided he too would take a sabbatical year. After all, a dwarf's loyalties lay first with his friends and family and Gregory Morrison had no family. These days, he was mostly working like a researcher and so wouldn't cause too much trouble leaving. Those who knew him were aware that Doctor Morrison was a wanderer at heart and wouldn't be worried by his abrupt departure.

Boromir and Aragorn's situation was more problematic. They were cops and by leaving so suddenly, they could very well lose their jobs. Still, they curiosity about the magical world and their sense of duty and honour would not let them leave innocent people unprotected when evil was afoot. Other cops could take their places in the States, they were needed here. This sense of right and duty was why Aragorn had become a Ranger and why Boromir had kept fighting battles he knew he would eventually lose if nothing changed.

But they weren't so keen on leaving their family and future family. Actually, former family. The people in question wouldn't take well to being left behind either.

"You know, when the Valar spoke of our '_fellowship, forged in darkness to defeat it and true to each other even in death_', they could have said they weren't talking only about us," Gimli complained conversationally.

"It makes you wonder who else is out there," Merry added.

Once their thoughts had turned towards their friends, the fellowship had quickly realised that Arwen, Eowyn, Faramir and Eomer had accompanied them in their current life.

And as the seven Walkers had retained their personality, so had their friends. Indeed, Frodo was still interested in lore and history; Sam the gardener was studying botany; Merry and Pippin, the terrible mischief-makers, were studying chemistry, boldly experimenting with all they could get their hands onto. Gimli still loved the earth and the stones as his geology PhD proved. Adam had hesitated between becoming a doctor and a cop but in the end, the desire to protect innocents had won out and he entered the police academy. He and Boromir were cops, as was Eomer. His current identity was Eric Fieldsman, another vice cop. Boromir's brother, Faramir had been forced to become a warrior by the circumstances but this time, Forest Ward was a scholar. Still, for his security, Boromir had made sure that his history professor of a brother could defend himself bare handed and that he could use a gun. Apparently, Boromir had also kept his protective streak. Eomer's sister, alias Forest's current girl and Faramir's former wife Eowyn went by the name of Erin. She still enjoyed a good challenge and she was a surgeon, a profession where women were a minority. And as Matt/Merry had once commented, she could also 'kick ass'. A black belt in martial arts could do that to people. As to Arwen, she was Alice, Adam's lady doc who worked for the same hospital as Eowyn. She was Adam's fiancée.

At this thought, Aragorn couldn't help but let a smile light up his face. Although Arwen had renounced her elven heritage, Aragorn hadn't been sure they would be allowed to stay together after their death. After all, only one other she-elf had ever been lost for the Eldar and Lúthien had realised extraordinary accomplishments to be allowed a mortal's fate and follow her love. Aragorn had never spoken of this aloud but it had been his greatest fear. Now he could lay it to rest.

"I have not seen a grin that goofy since the first time he married the Evenstar," Pippin commented.

Immediately, Aragorn tried to protest, offended, "I do not grin goofily." 

"Yes, you do. You're still doing it, furthermore," Boromir teased.

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No,…"

"If I have been absent so long that you need to resort to means of entertaining even my third years do not use anymore, I will have to apologise," an amused voice behind Aragorn said suddenly.

At once, the Ranger rolled forward and turned to face the newcomer in a crouch. Dumbledore gazed tranquilly back at him with his mischievous eyes. 

Aragorn looked at his watch. It was nearly three o'clock. The old man had been gone a little more than three hours.

"You are not sorry and they can be even more immature than that," Frodo said, smiling. "There is no need to apologize."

"I won't then," Dumbledore replied with a smile.

"When can we learn to apparate?" Pippin asked with a hint of awe. "You have no idea how hard it is to take Adam by surprise."

"No, I don't have any idea, do I? And this is why I'm asking you if you're sure to want to come to Hogwarts. The Aurors are gone and your minibus is at the front of the hospital. If you want to leave now, you will do so with all your memories."

Thrown off guard, the fellowship did not reply immediately, allowing Dumbledore to finish meaningfully, "And your secrets, of course."

"And if we still want to come?" Boromir asked. The old man's body language was still conveying calm and benevolence but the look in his eyes was resolute.

"Then, I want the truth. Something happened when Voldemort cast that spell. My source was adamant about this." 

"I see. Well, it's your show, partner." Boromir bowed mockingly to Aragorn.

The Ranger sighed and studied once again the old wizard, "Fine, I'll give you the truth. But tell me something first. _Priori spiriti reversio_. What does this exactly mean?"

Dumbledore looked puzzled by this question but considered it thoughtfully, "Words do not always reflect the effects of a spell, especially if it is new. At first, it's the intent that counts. Choosing more precise words simply reduce the cost in energy, making the spell easier to cast."

"Humour me, then," Aragorn insisted. "My Latin is a little rusty."

Dumbledore nodded, "Reversio means either restoration or return. Priori, previous and spiriti means spirit or soul. Together, these words could mean 'return to the previous state of your soul'. Lord Voldemort intended to send your souls back from whence they came and from there I suppose he would have sought a way to control souls."

"He failed then," Aragorn stated. He took a more formal expression and resumed, "But the spell worked in some way. It restored our memories from our previous lives. My name is Adam Dawson but ages past, I was Aragorn, son of Arathorn. I am in your debt, my Lord, for your discretion in front of the Aurors and the opportunity you're offering us at Hogwarts." 

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with wonder, "Reborn souls?"

"Stranger things have happened, I'm sure." Following Aragorn's lead, Boromir introduced himself, "Boromir, son of Denethor. I too offer my gratitude for your assistance."

"Gimli, son of Gloin," he bowed. "At your service."

"Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo who was himself son of… I'll pass on the genealogy for now," he added quickly at Boromir's groan. "Thank you, anyway."

"Samwise Gamgee. My friends call me Sam. Pleased to meet you."

"Pergrin Took, Pippin and…", he was timely interrupted by Merry.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck, Merry and we're …charmed to meet you," he said with a smirk.

Dumbledore chuckled. "You knew each other and you are bound together. Of course. That would explain some things."

"Explain which things?" Frodo asked curiously.

"My source saw threads binding each of you to the others when Voldemort cast that spell."

"Well, actually, ours are not the only souls bound," Aragorn said. "We have some friends that we will have to contact about this, if it can be done."

"It will be done," the old man affirmed. "Allow an old man to indulge in his curiosity but how came you to be bound?"

The fellowship shared a look and decided to let Aragorn handle the question. "In our previous life, there was this great evil that threatened to destroy the world as we knew it; we somewhat helped to vanquish it. As a reward, it would seem the powers that ruled our world decided we should be allowed to stay together."

"I have heard many claims of reincarnation but this is the first time I hear about higher powers," Dumbledore commented.

"The Valar's will was leaving our lands even in our time. They had decided that this world belonged to its children. Most men didn't believe in them anymore. By now, I imagine they have been completely forgotten by mankind. They left us free to choose what we would make of this world and personally, I can not stand idly where there is evil afoot."

Dumbledore smiled," I believe you. But you are still not telling me everything. Never mind. If I need to know, I trust you will inform me. But how did you vanquish this evil?"

"This Dark Lord had great powers but had been forced to rely on an object to be anchored in this world. He lost his ring along some of his powers and it fell into our hands. In short, we went on aquest with two other friends to destroy the ring. Some people took objections and we were eventually separated," Aragorn paused.

"Sam and I continued the quest to destroy the ring while they… What did you do anyway?" Frodo understood Aragorn's need for secrecy and so could not say that his friend had reclaimed his kingdom.

"We met interesting people and made diversion," Aragorn replied.

"Diversion? Guys, one day, we are going to around a table and compare our definitions," Merry broke in, disgusted. "What we did was to take part in these huge battles with swords, spears and all sorts of weapons to…"

"Keep the Dark Lord from looking their way," Gimli interrupted with a remarkable sense of timing, pointing to Sam and Frodo. "Basically, we made diversion."

"I see," Dumbledore's eyes were laughing at their antics. He had formed the impression Aragorn was a master of understatements. "Well, I guess experienced warriors such as yourselves would be qualified to teach young people how to survive in dangerous situations, then."

"How can you be sure you can trust us?" Sam wondered, playing the devil's advocate.

The mischievous glint in the old man's eyes came back with revenge. "Have you ever met servants of evil that bickered like children and played practical jokes? I rest my case."

At these words, the seven companions stood gaping before bursting into laughter. No, they could not see Sauron, Saruman, Grima or any orc acting this way. Dumbledore was an excellent judge of characters even if his methods were somewhat unorthodox.

"So, how are we going to Hogwarts?" Boromir asked once he had his laughter under control.

"You do not know how to apparate. And anyway, nobody can apparate inside Hogwarts. I suppose we shall have to go to Hogsmeade through the Floo-Network and then arrange accommodations from there. But that's not our first destination."

Surprised, Pippin asked, "Where are we going, then?"

Dumbledore replied with a chuckle, "Do not tell me you expect to go to school without any furniture," he chided with humour. "We'll find books, robes, quills and wands at Diagon Alley. We are going shopping."

####

To be continued.

Next chapter is at Hogwarts and we catch up with Harry: Divination class, N.E.W.T.'s and is Dumbledore really bringing Muggles to Hogwarts?

####

A little A/N and a rec for another story. If you want to know which other definitions, the fellowship would have to discuss, there is the word shelter. Look up Thundera Tiger's While the Ring Went South. It's about the missing scenes, well, days of the book and Thundera Tiger is one of the best writers you can find.

Thanks to all the reviewers. I'm glad you like the plot because I'm still in the introductive part of the story. I know that part should have ended with the prologue but I started with the meeting of the Fellowship with Voldemort and now I'm explaining how they got here. Now, the pace will speed up. You can expect lots of other twists and turns before the end of this story.

About Legolas not being able to do magic, I only have one thing to say for myself (with an ominous voice): _I have Plans_. But rest assured that elf is more than able to take care of himself, even in the magical world.

The books never talked much about Arwen except in the Annexes. That's not enough for me to make an opinion on a character but the romantic in me is drawn to the fact she _died _for Aragorn. Expect to see her now and then but not that often. She is not on my list of main characters. 

If I don't change my outline, the mortals of the Fellowship will meet Harry and co. before Legolas. But not by much. And they will all meet by chapter five if I don't have something new to add in between.

**Cheysuli**: about elves and house-elves. In my fic, the house-elves are not related to the elves of Tolkien. Still, they do seem a little hobbit-like don't you think? Small, can come and go unnoticed and easily kept happy. Furthermore, I do not know what became of the Shire. Thanks for the idea, I will dig into it. But not right now and not in this story. 

What do the elves think of house-elves? Well I'll start by saying the man who gave the house-elves their name is lucky to be already dead. Elves are a touchy lot about pride and angry elves could do a lot of damage in the Silmarillion. Pride aside, I don't think elves support slavery. But that's the affairs of Men and the elves do not intervene – much – in these matters. But I'm sure some currently unnamed elves are digging into the origins of house-elves because they have these highly troubling sugar-coated smiles on their lips when house-elves are mentioned in front of them. You know, that kind of smile so sweet you find yourself wondering whether you're diabetic and need insulin. That kind of smile that makes me suspect they are planning something but they aren't telling what. Yet. 

I will try to keep them away from Hermione and of S.P.E.W. but I fear it is a lost cause. Speaking of it; I've always wondered whether Rowling has ever heard about F.L.N.J. It's a French association, 'le Front de Libération des Nains de Jardin'. Literally, it means the Front of Liberation of Garden Dwarves. Some years back, they have 'freed' many dwarves. After reflection, Gimli would rather be the one interested.


	4. Chapter 3: Evening at Hogwarts

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine, pass along. 

A/N: A big thank you to all that helped me to find these two quotes. I tend to get a little obsessive over details and you saved me from buying the books in English to get rid of my frustration. 

I would also like to apologise for the delay it took to write this chapter and apologise in advance for the delay it will take to write the next chapters. End of term is looming at the horizon and that means exams, which means studying. Well, I just want to say I am not giving up on that fic even if it is not updated till the end of June at the worst.

**Chapter Three: Evening at Hogwarts**

In a room of the North Tower of Hogwarts, Harry yawned.

Divination was the last class of the week and Professor Trelawney had decided to take a closer look at Harry's fate. Predictably, he was going to die. Violently. Again.

"My poor boy," the professor murmured with her ethereal voice. "A setting red sun over a small island is a bad omen. It is an ill dream, truly. My Sight tells me heat will be involved in your death. You will be caught amid hot, so hot flames, my child."

Beside Harry, Ron tried to muffle a snicker behind his hand. Trelawney had a point. Harry did tend to find himself in 'hot' situations. 

With a smirk, The-Boy-Who-Lived whispered to his friend, "Here goes my fast and merciful death. The only hope left to me is that my robes will not catch fire during Potions. Dying with Snape's face and voice as last memories is simply too horrible for words." 

That set off Ron again and earned him a harsh glare from Professor Trelawney. This year, the Fates had told her it was time for her students to learn to interpret prophetic dreams. By adding a healthy dose of doom and gloom, of course. To give them an example of signs to pay attention to, she had asked Harry to talk of his latest dream.

He did not think his scar-induced visions were dreams so he had told about a nice dream he had had earlier this week. It had been pretty normal and peaceful. In it, he had been relaxing alone on the beach of a deserted island, spending all day working on his tan. That Professor Trelawney could find omens of death in such a setting was ridiculous. In Harry's mind, the most you could say about this dream was that he wanted some peace and calm, a nice change from all the extraordinary events that had surrounded his life since coming to Hogwarts. And perhaps, just perhaps he also wanted the whole world and Voldemort to forget about him and leave him alone. 

Unfortunately, Harry knew that was wistful thinking. Sirius had been blunt when Harry had asked his opinion. "For the world to be able to leave you alone, you would have to be alive. Right now, you are the _living_ proof Voldemort is not invincible. He has to kill you sooner or later to prove his superiority to the world."  

This was why the security at the Burrow had been strengthened before Harry's arrival. Thankfully, the additional wards had not been put to test and the proximity warnings had allowed Sirius to spend a few days with Harry in his true form without risks of being seen and caught by Aurors. Remus Lupin and Snuffles had showed up one morning to add wards that could recognize an Animagus' presence and Molly Weasley had invited them to stay over as long as they would like. At Harry's disappointment, four days was all they could spare from their work for the Order of the Phoenix, a group Dumbledore had founded to fight Voldemort. Nevertheless, he took full advantage of that time. It was the first time Harry and his godfather had been able to talk face to face without an emergency. He got to know Sirius better and to know Remus as a friend of his parents and as a surrogate uncle and not as a professor. ("_Former Professor_, Remus had rectified. _Nothing stops you from calling me by my first name, now_."). It was also the last time he had heard from either of them. For security reasons, they had asked him not to try to enter into contact with them and not to expect news from them at least until he arrived at Hogwarts.

Harry had still not heard from them and now, he would give anything to see a Grim. He sighed loudly.

"_Harry!_" Ron whispered.

The dark-haired boy whipped his head up and groaned mentally. He was daydreaming again in Divination. Most students were looking at him with amusement and some were even hiding smirks while Parvati and Lavander were scowling at him. By day, the Hogwarts' population as a whole could do an admirable job at denying there was a war brewing beyond the school's walls and all acted normally. The Gryffindors could do an even better job at forgetting Harry's strange crisis when other people were around. But at Harry's surprise, he realised Professor Trelawney was not looking at him with disappointment but with compassion.

"I know a terrible fate await you, my child," she said, her mysterious voice marked by a touch of sadness, "but do try to pay attention. Your death is no more difficult for you to accept than it has been for me to announce it. At least, now you understand the plight knowing the future is."

Harry was flabbergasted. The old crow thought he had sighed because he was considering his death as she had described it? As Hermione would have said, "Honestly!" Still, he did not try to correct the woman. Class was already almost ending and she had not given them any homework. Harry preferred to keep it that way.

"So, how did Divination go?" Hermione asked at the entrance of the Great Hall. She had had Arithmancy this afternoon with Professor Vector and had been fascinated by today's course. Not that she had not already learned it by heart, but she liked to be thorough and listened intently to teachers. At the boys' intense disgust and unlike them, she was constantly preparing herself for the O.W.L.s. 

"As usual. I'm going to die," Harry answered dryly.

"Ah ah," Ron protested, waving his finger right in front of Harry's face. The other boy wondered if he could bit it off. "But she never talked about heat before." He leered, "You will be caught in the flames of passion, my boy. Do you have a hot date you forgot to men…" Harry was saved from his best friend's wild suggestions by two bodies colliding into them.

"Did you hear?" Fred - or was it George? – asked with an excited voice.

"Dumbledore is going to bring Muggles to Hogwarts tonight!" the other twin continued.

"What?" Ron, Hermione and Harry exclaimed with one voice.

"An owl from the Headmaster arrived just after Transfigurations. He asked Professor McGonagall to prepare rooms for seven people. Some of them are wizards who have never studied magic but the others are Muggles!" Now that their tangled bodies were separated, Harry recognised the speaker as George.

"Professor McGonagall would never let such news go around without first explaining the situation to all the students," Hermione reasoned. "Or, at least, the other prefects, Ron and me," she frowned, suspicious.

"Hermione is right. How did you hear of this?" Ron asked. "McGonagall would never have told you."

"We're hurt," Fred sniffed. "Do you think us so incompetent we wouldn't be able to organise a simple…"

"The merest, truly," George cut in timely.

"Diversion to keep our dear Head of Gryffindor busy long enough to read the letter?" Both the twins shook their heads. "Shame on you, brother. You have no trust in us."

"We are cut to the heart."

"A devastating blow. Hey, there's Jordan. We're going to tell him the news. Bye. Harry, don't forget the Quidditch try outs tomorrow, we will need our new great and unequalled captain's opinion," They sauntered off to their friend Jordan Lee and quickly drew him in another direction.

"Honestly!" Hermione exclaimed, watching their departing backs with exasperation.

"I bet they invented that story," Ron said, shaking his head. "Professor Dumbledore has no reasons to bring Muggles to Hogwarts. What could they do here anyway? "

"Exactly," added Hermione. "Let's go. We have O.W.L.s to study for, after dinner. How do Fred and George expect to pass their N.E.W.T.s if they do not work, I will not even try to imagine." She advanced towards the Gryffindor table, followed by Ron but they both stopped when they realised Harry had not moved.

"Harry?" Ron asked, concerned. His friend seemed lost in thought. At his call, Harry focused his green eyes on him.

"It could be the men from my vision. They were seven too." 

"Harry, Ron is right," Hermione replied. "Dumbledore is mad enough to bring untrained wizards to****Hogwarts but Muggles? What could Muggles do in the Wizarding world? Their inventions do not work at Hogwarts. They wouldn't be able to do anything and they would be bored out of their minds. And that's if they don't get killed." 

Hermione had raised an important issue and Harry conceded it. Wizards relied so much on magic that they did not have the simplest security measures. Any magical place was a danger zone for the magically blind. Even if the Muggles did not meet any dark creature, dangerous animal or lethal plant against which they would be without efficient magical protection, they would have to be wary of bewitched objects. Panicking on Hogwarts' moving staircases could only lead to an accident. Still, Hermione had forgotten a point.

"They would be protected from Voldemort." 

To this argument, Ron and Hermione had nothing to reply. Dinner was a silent affair.

####

Later that evening.

"Ouch! Watch your feet!"

"Sorry."

"No harm done."

"I've finished. Let me down."

"Your wish is my command, O remarkable genius."

"You're not bad either, O wonderful co-conspirator."

"Of course not. We do share the same blood, after all."

A pause.

After a loud intake of breath, the second speaker struck a pompous pose to state a profound truth.

"Sometimes, I am simply amazed by my sheer deviousness."

The actions were mirrored by the other boy.

"Sometimes, I am simply amazed by your sheer weight."

A shared smile as they returned to their silent contemplation of a work well-done. A moment later, a frown appeared on the first boy's face.

"Highly esteemed brother?"

"Yes, sublimely prestigious twin?"

"If we are doing this Muggle way, how are we going to get out of the room?"

Silence.

"Damn."

"Yeah."

####

"… a grasp of the basics," Professor Minerva McGonagall finished her sentence. The Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress was the picture of efficiency, guiding her new charges throughout the castle at a brisk pace and giving them information on the coming days while Albus followed, eyes twinkling.

"We'll assign a few students to help you. It is perhaps for the best Professor Snape refused outright to ask for his students' collaboration. Slytherins are not known for their tolerance for anything associated with Muggles. But I am sure we can find someone in each of the three other houses. Professor Flitwick, Sprout and I will see to it tomorrow, once you have rested and been introduced formally to the students. Thank Merlin tomorrow is Saturday, or we wouldn't have been able to hold the students' attention on the classes. I already have an idea on who will be your tutors. Hermione Gran…," McGonagall's voice continued but Merry wasn't listening anymore. 

The formerly Big People, namely Strider, Boromir and Gimli were still attentive and Frodo and Sam nodded politely from time to time. But Pippin had given in before Merry and was even now watching around him with hard-repressed curiosity. Their mostly newly acquired possessions were floating in the air, trailing after them to their rooms.

After having exchanged Muggle money for wizard currency, the Fellowship had bought all the materials needed under Albus' guidance. Well, actually, they did their shopping once they were done freaking about trusting goblins. With their money or trusting them period. On the good side, once that shock was past, the strange clothing, the structurally unsound buildings that should be – by all physics laws – collapsed on the ground, the random manifestations of magic, in short the _magical_ quality of Diagon Alley was easy to accept. But then, they already knew magic existed. This was just another kind of magic than the one they were used to in their former lives. 

So they had bought wands for the hobbits, robes, books and all sorts of utensils to prepare this year among the wizards. The only thing they – or rather the hobbits - did on pure whim was to buy an owl. A beautiful grey owl with a white star on his breast. They had been drawn to him at first sight but it was his nametag that convinced them Frodo had to buy him. A joke on the Fates, of sorts. Strider, Boromir and Gimli had appreciated the irony once they got used to the idea but at first, they had looked ready to throttle Frodo and roast the owl. Personally, Merry was glad they had chosen to let the bird live. He liked Frodo's new Precious. **__**

"You are lucky. The staircases are unusually cooperative tonight," Professor McGonagall noted, drawing Merry from his musings.

Indeed, a staircase was moving to close the gap in front of the company. _Cool. _As soon it stopped, Professor McGonagall climbed the steps, announcing, "Your rooms are in this aisle. I have had four guests rooms prepared but I fear this part of the castle is mostly unused. Usually, we host the one or two occasional visitors within the staff section but you are too many for this. Here we … Fred and George Weasley! What, pray tell, are you doing here?"

After taking a turn into a corridor, Professor McGonagall's voice had turned first surprised then immediately stern and slightly dreadful when she asked, no, demanded an answer. That piqued Merry's interest. The Deputy Headmistress was a no-nonsense woman that seemed very hard to ruffle. From their first encounter at the entrance of the castle to the present time, passing by the introduction to the teaching staff, McGonagall had been nothing but collected and very professional, except to throw a look at Albus that promised a lengthy discussion. And Albus had confessed he sometimes threw curves at her just to see how she would get out of the situation. "It is very hard to pull one over her, you see," he had explained, the twinkle in his eyes brighter than ever.

Coming from a man who had already proved in their short association he could be as unpredictable – but thankfully not as temperamental - as Gandalf himself at his best ("Worst," Pippin had argued), and whom most of his peers considered as half-mad, this compliment was very impressive. This was why Merry hurried his pace to see whom she was addressing. He found two identical red-haired boys wearing innocent expressions.

"Good evening to you too, Professor McGonagall. We're looking for Sir Cadogan," the one on the left answered.

"He is not in his painting and nobody else has seen him," the second one continued. He sighed with dejection. "It is very important we talk to him, you see. Professor Binns gave us homework about…"

"And as you can see, there is no painting in this corridor," Professor McGonagall interrupted, still looking suspiciously at the twins. 

"We can see that now so…oh! Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. Did you hear that new joke about a troll and two harpies in a dragon's lair?" 

"The one about the relative size? Yes, yes, I did just this morning at the Ministry. Highly inventive. Did you hear the one…"

Professor McGonagall coughed slightly, glaring pointedly at Albus. Pippin giggled before hiding his amusement behind a cough. _And once again, Albus goes off on a tangent and proves you can be old, powerful and absolutely silly_. He had already done so dozen of times this afternoon. The memorable first time had occurred when Boromir had enquired about their host's sanity. 

Well, to be accurate, he had said "Forgive me my bluntness, Sir, but **ARE YOU COMPLETELY NUTS?**" in the middle of Diagon alley, between an apothecary and a café, causing a hovering desk to fall down a couple of meters and earning the group fierce scowls from both the wand-waving wizard on the ground and the beak-nosed witch at the heptagonal window on the third floor and also a little attention from all the passers-by within hearing range. But those were details. Albus had answered that yes, quite probably, though the Daily Prophet often used the term _obsolete dingbat_. And later, he had added on a confidential tone, "Personally, I have a preference for barmy old codger." Personally, Merry thought madness suited the old man. But neither he nor the rest of the Fellowship would follow his example and trust goblins. Even tidied goblins that were world widely renowned as excellent bankers and accountants.

The twins were now looking expectantly from the Fellowship to Professor McGonagall. She sighed eventually.

"You have heard the rumours, have you?" she asked. 

The boys shared a mysterious look and nodded simultaneously.

"Well it's not as if a real way to keep a secret inside these walls existed," the Transfiguration teacher muttered. "Never mind. Gentlemen, meet Fred and George Weasley, two of my seventh-year Gryffindors and the main trouble-makers at the school."

"Professor!" the first boy protested, "slander is a punishable crime in most countries. How can you say this?"

"It's not slander if it's true, George. You …"

"I'm Fred."

"My apologies, Fred. But you and George are to my inexpressible regrets the worst pranksters of your generation." 

"Only our generation? We are not the greatest pranksters Hogwarts has ever known?" They seemed truly horrified by this possibility. Someone snorted behind Merry. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw only Aragorn with a carefully blank expression.

"I am not touching that question," McGonagall said with a tone of finality. At the redheads' immediate look of protest, she changed subjects. "Please do show a minimum of civility and allow me to introduce our guests. Meet Ar…Adam Dawson, Sean Davies, Bruce Ward, Frank Peterson, Gregory Morrison and Philip and Matthew Carter."

The twins had eyed each other at McGonagall's hesitation and Merry saw mischief flash through their eyes. "Pleased to meet you, Mr Aradam Dawson," they chorused politely. Merry had to admit their nerve was impressive. Apparently, Strider too thought so.

"It's Aragorn, Adam or Mister Dawson but never Aradam," he replied, an amused smile fleeting on his lips as he glanced at an open door beside the twins. "Albus, these are your students and this is mainly your idea. You can explain to them what we will be doing at Hogwarts, which is, I suspect, only one of the reasons of their presence."

"Really," Fred drawled. "George and I are not that easy to read. Unless you can read minds?"

"Cheeky and challenging. I like them."

Merry snorted at Boromir's comment. Strider and he seemed fine with the idea of staying in the corridor but hobbits like him appreciated their comfort. He eyed with longing the open door. "If we have to go through the explanations again, I want to be more comfortable than in a corridor. Professor McGonagall, I suppose the open door leads to one of our…"

SPLASH!

"Well, Minerva, I guess this answers our question on what the boys were doing here." 

Albus sounded mildly amused. Merry could also hear familiar muffled giggles and unstoppable false coughs. _Traitors! And they dare to call themselves friends!_ He turned around slowly, deliberately making his wet shoes squish. He looked first at the twins who seemed absolutely bewildered by the present situation. A little too bewildered. _I'll deal with them later._ Resuming his turn, he encountered Albus' mischievous eyes but continued his movement. _There._ His supposed 'friends' were trying to suppress their laughs but most of them had streaming eyes and were holding their stomachs. Eyes narrowing, he stared first Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli down. _The Big People have learned nicely to fear a Hobbit's wrath_, he remarked with satisfaction. Next were Frodo and Sam. These two had already mostly controlled their giggles and waved him past them with an apologetic shrug. Pippin was the only one giggling openly and Merry sighed. He could never be angry with his cousin. But there were other ways to deal with him. With a simple imploring look, Pippin made efforts to stop giggling.

"You…you…" McGonagall spluttered. Merry turned towards the last person in the company and saw her face red from rage. She took a deep breath to recover her voice. "How dare you play a prank on guests! And people who can't use magic, furthermore! Your father would be ashamed. He works so hard against Muggles' ill treatment by wizards! Twenty-five points from Gryffindor! Each!"

"But we didn't use magic!" "But that's the totality of our points!" the twins protested.

"Do not interrupt me, Messrs Weasley. You also have detention with Filch tomorrow!"

"It's really not such a big deal, Professor McGonagall," Merry intervened, seeing the distressed faces of the two pranksters and taking pity on them. "It was only water after all."

"Perhaps," Albus said calmly. "But it is still poor manners to greet guests so. Misters Weasley, you should at least apologise and help Meriadoc dry himself."

"The drying would be welcome but no apologies, Albus," Merry said. He stood still while one of the subdued twins cast a spell that helped him dry in an instant. He then met the boy's eyes and smiled wickedly, "Give me a clear conscience at payback time." He continued on this track, "So, just a bucket of water? No dye? No paint? No tar and chicken feathers? That's rather tame."

The boys' eyes had widened at Merry's first sentence and he saw their surprise transform into delight.  "It was the only thing we could find without magic on such a short notice," they confessed.

"Why was it so important you did this without magic?" Strider questioned them. Oddly, he sounded more thoughtful than curious. Merry gave him an interrogative look but the man ignored him, reporting his not so inconsiderable attention to the two boys. They shrugged once but Strider didn't take that for an answer and kept watching silently until they were squirming increasingly uncomfortably under his steady gaze. _I wonder how they would react if Strider really stopped toning down his presence._ King Elessar had been known to make troublemakers cower with a mere look. Merry recognized today's behaviour as Strider's, the Ranger from the North, someone who tended to fade in the background when there was no danger around but who commanded attention when he intervened. 

"Minerva, what is this about points?" the Ranger changed subjects abruptly, without looking from the twins.

The teacher looked surprised and hesitated but at Albus' prompting, she replied, "Each student is sorted in one of the four Houses of Hogwarts at the start of their first year. They can then win – or lose - points for their house. At the end of the term, the House which counts the most points wins the House Cup."

Strider nodded in understanding. "Albus, as a Professor, I will be able to distribute points, won't I?" He resumed after the Headmaster's acknowledgment, "Could you give them ten points on my account if they answer my question?"

Albus chuckled good-naturally and agreed, "Of course." He seemed to find the scene highly informative. The boys, on the other hand, were not so amused. But eventually, George stopped inspecting his shoes and met Strider's eyes.

"You probably would have been hysteric if feathers started to grow out of your skin. And besides," he muttered and lowered his eyes again, "it seemed … fairer, somehow."

"Fairer?" Boromir repeated dubiously. "How can a surprise attack be fairer? You do not seem to be idiots."

"We are NOT idiots!" they protested loudly. Eyes flashing, they finally lifted their heads.

"I didn't say you were," Boromir held their gazes until the boys had the grace to look embarrassed. "And as one of your future Professors of Physical Defence and Basic Survival Tips, here is my first advice." He waited until he had their complete attention. "War is a dirty business. Ensure your survival first and worry about showing fairness to your enemies later."

"We are not at wa… you are not enemies," Fred said tentatively.

"Glad to hear you realise this. I don't suffer fools easily." Gimli's words were rather harsh but the smile he gave was warm to help the twins relax. "So, you didn't use magic because it seemed fairer?"

The two boys nodded with conviction. 

Boromir sighed heavily. "Albus? Give them Aragorn's ten points. And double them on my account."

Fred and George's eyes widened. Grinning, Merry whispered in their ear, "These three are suckers for honourable actions. You're doing just fine." 

"Any chances to win back more points?" George whispered back.

"Actually, Mr Weasley," Albus cut in. "You and you brother won't lose any more points for being out of your dorm after hours. And instead of detention with Mr Filch, you will serve as guides for this group until they are familiar with the castle. In fact, Minerva and I will leave them in your capable hands as of now. We have a little speech to prepare for tomorrow but I expect you to be back in your beds in one hour. Understood?"

They nodded reluctantly under the Headmaster's firm gaze but still looked as if they wanted to argue.

"Oh, and what do these rumours say exactly?" McGonagall asked. "I want to know how many stupidities I will have to correct tomorrow."

"Just that three Muggles and four non-trained wizards would be brought by the Headmaster tonight."

"Well, it is correct at the exception of one point," Albus commented tranquilly. "Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli appear to be Squibs and not Muggles."

With these words, he drew the attention on him but the reactions were a little different according to the people. The twins looked surprised, Merry and the other hobbits were intrigued and the three interested looked both curious and wary. 

"Something you were going to mention but slipped your mind,****I suppose?" Gimli didn't seem to know whether he should be amused or annoyed. "Why ever did I think I was getting a break from excessive flightiness?" he muttered.

"What are Squibs?" Boromir asked curtly.

"Well, Misters Weasley. I believe you wished to win back more points tonight?" McGonagall said.

"Squibs," started George, "are people from wizarding families who have no magical abilities, like Muggles. Wait, no!" he backtracked. "Filch is a Squib. He can't cast the simplest spell but he can use some bewitched objects."

"He can also see magical things a Muggle wouldn't have and Muggle Repelling Charms do not work on him. Squibs are …oddities. Here, the first years are convinced Filch has a telepathic connection with Miss Norris, his cat," Fred finished, rolling his eyes.

"Five points for a thorough answer. You are not entirely hopeless yet," granted McGonagall. "There are not a lot of things written on Squibs and you mentioned some points that are not commonly known among wizards. Squibs are extremely rare wizards whose potential seems to be blocked. They cannot actively use their powers. But they do possess magic and it generally manifests itself in other subtler ways. Mr Filch does have a kind of connection with Miss Norris. That's how he knows when she has found a student where they shouldn't be."

"And how do you know we're Squibs?" asked Aragorn.

"Hogwarts is charmed to look like old ruins for Muggles' eyes. You saw the castle as it was really," Albus replied simply.

"Do you know what their powers are?" Pippin wondered. 

"It varies from person to person," answered McGonagall. "There are reports of Squibs never finding the outlet of their powers."

"So you don't know," Pippin insisted.

"We do not know," Albus admitted.

Pippin frowned at this answer and gazed intently at Strider, Boromir and Gimli. Sam, Frodo and Merry joined him quickly in their examination. But the three older men didn't show any hint of unusual or magical abilities. Nothing about them was odd. Well, nothing except their growing irritation, but people subjected to that kind of scrutiny tended to grow irritated.

"Until five minutes ago, I ignored I was a Squib. If I can wait to see what I can do, so can you," Gimli announced firmly, the dire threats the hobbits' physical well being if they didn't stop their perusal *NOW* unsaid but clearly conveyed in his glare.

"Excellent decision," Albus chuckled. "And meantime, I bid you a good night. One hour, Messrs Weasley. Now, Minerva, let's see what are we going to announce to our students."

He waved to reply to the hastily said goodnight and walked away, already discussing different manners to present the situation with the Deputy Headmistress. The Fellowship and the twins watched them for a while before Merry turned towards the boys.

"Let's start again. Hi, I'm Merry and these are Frodo, Sam and Pippin. We will be students here this year. The three old ones over here are Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli. They will be the teachers for Hogwarts' new class, How to Duck, Scream like a Girl and Run like Hell. Questions?"

####

"You aren't."

"We are."

"You aren't."

"We are."

"Prove it, then."

Silence.

"Okay, you got me. Help, anyone?"

"We can't prove it undeniably."

"Thank you, Strider, I always knew we could count on you." Sarcasm and frustration were rolling in waves from Merry's tongue.

Fred and George watched in fascination. The young man had managed to roll on his back without disturbing his friends overmuch. Considering the four younger men had piled themselves in a heap on the bed, this action was quite a feat. They had done so as soon they had entered the guestroom, leaving the others watching in bemusement. The twins had then appropriated the only other bed of the room, Boromir and Gimli had snagged the two chairs and Aragorn had chosen to sit on the floor, leaning on his friends' bed to look at the twins.

Now, the older man was rolling his eyes but he too was frustrated by the situation. He tried to give yet another shot at it. "Albus believed us, you know."

"Professor Dumbledore is a genius but he is a little mad, you know. And he tends to trust people nobody else would," replied George.

"You said you two were Muggle cops and that Gimli is former military. So, we are willing to believe you can teach us to defend ourselves physically. But we absolutely refuse to believe you are reincarnated souls without proof," Fred stated.

Aragorn rolled his eyes again and muttered something in gibberish.

"I beg your pardon?"

"'I can't convince children I'm saying the truth and I have to convince Aurors of that tomorrow.'" Gimli said.

"Oh. That's … problematic for you but I was asking what he said," Fred insisted.

"That's what Strider said," Sam sounded puzzled. 

"It didn't sound anything like that." 

"No, I guess it didn't," Aragorn stated detachedly. "That was Westron, or Common Speech. And there are no traces of that language ever being spoken in what I know of History."

"I'm a student in History and I _know_ there are no traces of anything from our age," stressed Frodo. 

This news seemed to depress the seven men. Fred and George looked at each other and shrugged. If this story was a scam, it was a very well performed one. But these people had nothing to gain from elaborating a false story. So, it was either the truth or a very deep, collective delusion. Well, it wasn't that unusual in the wizarding world.

"We can't be certain you are not reincarnated people without proof either," commented George after a moment. It was an offer to close the subject for now and Pippin took it gracefully.

"So, what do our guides suggest for tomorrow's program?"

"Us?" Fred and George shared a surprised glance. They had assumed the newcomers would take charge.

"No, the other twins that splashed Merry."

"Pippin, Elladan and Elrohir are not here," said the interested party. 

"Who?"

"His," Merry rolled around and jerked his thumb towards Aragorn, "foster brothers. Otherwise known as the Mad Twins. And now I think about it, you suspected something. You could have warned me," Merry accused, poking the older man in the shoulder.

"Elladan and Elrohir have an identical look on their face when they try to pull a prank. I thought you remembered," Aragorn defended himself.

"No, they don't look like Fred and George do," Pippin denied. "They are almost as inscrutable as Legolas when he is pissed off with us."

"Well, you never saw them trying to trick Elrond," Aragorn answered dryly. "Or Glorfindel for that matter."

"Did they succeed?" Pippin asked curiously. 

Aragorn considered the question. "In general or against Elrond and Glorfindel?" 

"We never saw them trying to trick those two," Merry stated.

Aragorn seemed lost in thoughts. When his gaze refocused, a small smile played on his lips. "Rarely if they were face to face. But long-range manoeuvring worked often."

"Well, that time, they got me. But don't worry," Merry grinned at the twins' attention, "I roped Pippin, Legolas and Gimli in my counter scheme and got back at them."

"And Minas Tirith was even still standing when we were done. You didn't have to chase us out of the city," Pippin looked at Aragorn with hurt eyes. 

The latter snorted, rolled his eyes, muttered something that sounded like a prayer for patience and put the discussion back on track. "Tomorrow?" 

Gimli coughed suddenly in his corner. _These people are going to liven up_ _the atmosphere, _Fred thought gleefully. 

"There are try outs tomorrow morning. I guess you can either stay and talk to the teachers or come with us," George shrugged. "But we definitively need to find a Keeper and possibly five reserve players. It's going to be rather long."

"Try outs for …ah… Quitch, right? Albus talked about it earlier but I don't …" 

"Quidditch!" Fred interrupted Sam adamantly. "The name is Quidditch. It's the best sport in the world and Gryffindor is Hogwarts' best team," he boasted.

"I think I'll go with you to see what that is all about," Frodo decided, amused. 

"Are you sure about that? Harry is currently channelling Wood and scheduled the séance awfully early."

"How early?"

"Seven o'clock in the pitch for the candidates. Half to seven for us."

"On a Saturday? Harsh," commented Pippin. "Your captain must be obsessed."

"Harry? He's good but not obsessed. It's his first year as captain and I think he wrote to Wood to get some advice. Now, Oliver was an obsessed one." George grinned, "Never mind; his influence will wear off pretty fast with our assistance."

"Well, if we want to be awake for that hour, we'd better get to bed," Sam said. He glanced towards his watch "Anyway, your time is almost up."

"I've got a better idea. What about a raid in the kitchens?" Merry proposed with a determined glint in his eyes.

And so, five minutes later, nine conspirators – including three reluctant ones - were sneaking in the corridors. Once food had been mentioned, the others hobbits had stated they were still a little hungry and the twins, reluctant to leave the newcomers, had only been too glad to lead them to the kitchens. It had been ridiculously easy for the hobbits to convince their friends to accompany them. It had only involved the very firm statement they were going with or without them. Overprotective instincts served the younger men well, for once. 

After having put the finishing touches on tomorrow's plans, three 'Are we there yet?'s and three different answers ('No', 'Nearly' and 'Behind that painting'), Pippin thought back to his youth(s) and asked a rather important question. "Are the cooks likely to come after us for stealing food?"

He chose to ignore the comments that errupted behind him about the intelligence to ask this question right now and focused on the reply – as did the complainers, he noted.

"We're not going to steal food," announced one of the twins proudly. Recognising one from the other was easy back in the guest room. Fred had stayed on the left and George on the right. Now, in the semi-darkness, it was practically impossible. Even Elladan and Elrohir hadn't played so much on their resemblance to confuse people. The boy pulled on the door handle that used to be a pear and resumed, "We're going to ask for food. Watch and learn."

The room behind the painting was immense. Utensils hanged on the walls and four tables were in the centre of the kitchen. While George explained how the kitchens were relied to the Great Hall, Fred took some steps inside the room and at least a dozen little creatures with bat-like ears appeared. They immediately assaulted him with questions.

"How can we be of service, Mister Weasley?" "Do you need anything?" "Do you want a piece of pie, Sir?"

He looked over his shoulder and saw that the newcomers were too enraptured by George's explanations and the house-elves to command anything in particular. Shrugging, he asked for pie and turned back towards his brother to hear him finish, "… house-elves live to serve wizards."

"What!"

"It's not enslavement, no matter what Hermione says. They thrive on serving us and they consider it a matter of pride to do it well. It's their nature," Fred explained faced with their shock. Muggle-borns were always a little put-off by this particular trait of character.

"These are no elves!" Gimli exclaimed.

"Of course they are," George replied, puzzled. He shared a look with his brother. _Not elves?_

"Elves are very odd creatures, I agree but they look nothing like that," Gimli sounded troubled. In fact, they all looked troubled except Aragorn and Frodo who had kneeled to speak quietly with one of the house-elves.

"I can assure you these are house-elves," George insisted. "I know there are some Muggle legends that depict them otherwise but this is what an elf really look like."

"I meet elves in my past life," Boromir said, "and…"

"It's not them," Frodo interrupted. "It's just a coincidence. They wear the same name and that's all." He stood up while Aragorn continued speaking with the elf. 

"You sure about that?" Merry asked but he started to relax.

In response, Frodo turned towards an elf scurrying beside him and said _"Lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie?_"

"I'm sorry, Sir. I don't understand what you are saying," the elf raised nervous round eyes towards Frodo. "But if you could repeat in English, I'm sure I could help you?" he finished with an unsure question. 

"No, thank you. I'm sorry to have disturbed you." Frodo turned back towards his friends. "Convinced?"

"'Do you speak elvish?' That's supposed to be a proof?" Gimli was still a little perturbed.

Frodo sighed and tapped on Aragorn's shoulder. The latter took a look at his companions' faces and finished his conversation with the elf.

"Thank you for your help, Dobby."

"I'm glad I could help, Sir," he said with his squeaking voice. Nevertheless, he looked a little anxious to get away from his interrogator.

Aragorn seemed to notice this and he smiled self-deprecatingly. "I am sorry if I have scared you. I get a little too intense, sometimes."

That seemed to reassure Dobby and he gave a small smile before going away. Aragorn watched him depart then stood up slowly in his turn. He seemed thoughtful and troubled by what he had learnt here but at Frodo's second nudge, he shrugged, "It doesn't look like a duck, it doesn't walk like a duck, it doesn't speak like a duck so, I guess it's not a duck." 

"Aragorn!" Gimli rolled his eyes but he finally relaxed too.

"You know," George commented, "usually Muggle-borns are disturbed by the house-elves' behaviour and not their name."

"I am disturbed by their behaviour, trust me on that," Aragorn responded grimly but he changed subjects immediately without elaborating. "Are those pies for us? We should go then. Fred, George, thank you for the little tour. We'll manage to find our way back to the rooms but you'd better hurry back to your dorm."

It was a command and the twins found themselves walking before they even thought about protesting. Once they did, however, a look at Aragorn's face convinced them arguing would be pointless. The last thing they heard was Frodo's quiet voice.

"You know, you never apologised for scaring me."

####

Next chapter: _Hide and seek_. What has Legolas been up to? 


	5. Chapter 4: Hide and Seek

**Disclaimer** : I am not Rowling, I am not Tolkien. Thus I am nothing and own nothing.

And since the disclaimer's purpose is to give credit where it's due, I have another declaration to make. Everyone say hi to my new beta, Arianne. Every little mistake you will not find in this chapter is due to her. The remaining mistakes are unfortunately still mine.

Well, finally, this chapter is out before the end of June. I really don't know when the next one will be. If inspiration strikes and does not let me go before I write, it will be before the end of June. If not, it will be for the beginning of July. After I've read the Order of the Phoenix. 

Thanks to all the reviewers. I'm really honoured by all the feedback I've received. For those of you who asked a question, the responses are below.

**Chapter four: Hide and Seek**

The night sky had changed since the Eastern shores had been called Middle-Earth by its mortal inhabitants. Earendil did not travel in the sky anymore and the stars had shifted considerably. But the firmament was still beautiful, especially during summertime. 

On this clear night, the full moon hung high among the stars, shedding a pale silver light over the tree tops. Several meters below, however, darkness prevailed under the cover of the forest. Legolas did not mind the absence of light. Perched on a tree, he preferred to remain invisible for a while.

For the second time in 24 hours, the quest to find the reborn mortals of the Fellowship of the ring had lost some of its urgency face by new events. But unlike the first time, Legolas did not rejoice at the interruption.

The first setback had been Arwen, Faramir, Eowyn and Eomer's arrival at the main office of Winter, Spring & Green. This was a joyful and touching reunion, especially between Arwen and her father. At the end of the Third Age, Elrond had rejoined his wife on Aman and his sons had followed him a few years later, leaving Arwen on Middle-Earth. Imladris' Lord had loved all of his children dearly but Arwen had always been his favourite. Legolas still remembered the stricken look on Elrond's face when he had handed him a last letter from his daughter on his arrival in Valinor. Arwen's final farewell. That day, Elrond had let go of his last hopes and had finally acknowledged he had lost her forever. That had grieved him deeply. Having his daughter back into his life was a blessing beyond his wildest hopes.

Legolas had stayed with the newcomers to talk well into the night. The delay in his departure for England was long but he learned important information about his missing companions, such as their new names, appearances and jobs as well as their last known position in Scotland. 

Thus, by the time his plane landed in Heathrow, it was well past midday. A tentative enquiry at the Ministry of Magic told him the wizards knew nothing of his friends. Neither did the Muggle police. Just as he had been about to head for Scotland to look for them himself, he heard rumours that seven Muggles had been attacked by Death Eaters the previous night and had been taken to St Mungo. That worried him somewhat. He was now certain his friends were alive but he knew nothing of their condition.

Once at the hospital, he was told the Muggles had gone with Hogwarts' Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, with the avail of the Ministry. Such an answer was not totally unexpected after more than half a day. The "Good riddance" an ill-tempered purple skinned nurse with yellow dots and tentacles in place of hair was. At this point, the elf judged safer to beat a strategic retreat before someone thought to ask if these Muggles were his friends. He already knew they had to be uninjured to be able to leave and cause mischief and that deduction contented him for the moment. Furthermore, they would be safe in company of Albus Dumbledore, a man whose reputation for acceptance and fairness was legendary. 

At his second trip to the Ministry, Legolas stalked obstinately the only worker he could find, a stressed looking fellow who seemed on the verge of burning out.  Accepting eventually to look for a possible report concerning Dumbledore and seven Muggles, the tired wizard discovered that Hogwarts' Headmaster had decided to take four non-trained wizards and three Muggles – who were suspected of being Squibs – to his school. He read the report viciously, punctuating it with mutterings of likely hexes to throw at collaborators who choose "a _most convenient_ time to drop off the face of the world. Incommunicado, my a**". Considering the impressive pile of files stacked on the man's desk, Legolas could not help but agree. Still, he did not stay to listen to the man's increasingly original threats. He had his next destination: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Following the purest tradition of magical schools, Hogwarts was hidden and unplottable. Only the staff and the students knew where it lay. No elf had ever become a teacher at Hogwarts and the few children born since the elven folk had come back to the Eastern world had escaped the mortals' notice and been home-schooled. Thankfully, even if the elves had never tried to find out exactly where Hogwarts lay, rumours heard throughout this millennium narrowed down its location to Scotland, near the only entirely wizarding village of Britain, Hogsmeade.

Once there, a question at the owner of Three Broomsticks, the local pub, was all it took to discover Hogwarts' exact location. Legolas also received confirmation of the passage of seven unknown men accompanying Professor Dumbledore less than one hour before his own arrival. These men had been Muggle-clad and seemed to have brought school supplies and trunks with them. His heart constricting strangely, he let a bright smile lit up his face as he thanked a blushing Madam Rosmerta. The chase was about to end.

Not even five minutes later, another chase started.

Outside the pub, the street had started to empty. It wasn't night yet but a chilly wind was blowing, announcing autumn's approach. Legolas passed many wizards hurrying to go back home or to enter The Three Broomsticksfor a drink or three_._ That was why the two standing men caught his eye at first. At a second glance, he saw they were talking at the entrance of an alley near the edge of the village. Something in their behaviour immediately put his instincts on alert.

It took him a few second to realise why. He was seeing a lackey reporting fearfully to his master. They hadn't been obvious about it but the nervous looks the dark-haired man kept throwing around and his growing agitation was starting to give them away. 

His master probably realised this too and he gestured to the other man to enter deeper inside the alley. The response of the latter was… interesting. Elven eyesight allowed Legolas to observe his eyes widening in panic and a frantic headshaking. _He is the bearer of bad news._ The man was virtually shaking and some passer-bys threw him curious looks. 

Seeing this, the master, a blonde haired man, grabbed the smaller one by the scruff and pulled him back into the street. His subordonate relaxed in response and, although still visibly nervous, he stopped shaking.

Suddenly, as if sensing Legolas' glare, the blonde turned his head sharply in the elf's direction.

Legolas did not break stride at this scrutiny and kept walking nonchalantly, stopping from time to time to admire the displays of the shops. The watcher would merely see a young man wandering the streets, still relatively far away, according to human eyesight. The only things out of the ordinary would be his grey trench coat instead of a proper wizard robe and the long backpack he bore. But nothing about him would warrant further attention. _Elven__ natural discretion allied with a little magic can work wonders_, he commented silently. When carrying several weapons that would have drawn a lot of attention in this place and age, small deceptions were in order.

The elf profited from the occasion to look at the blonde man's face and recognised him. Lucius Malfoy, a suspected Death Eater fourteen years ago but never condemned. His prestigious name and his immense wealth had allowed him that. Nowadays, he was an influential public figure, thanks to his family's old name and his money.

Malfoy turned eventually in the other direction and headed briskly away from the main street and out of the village, leaving his lackey to scramble after him. On one of his master's words, the dark-haired man resumed his report, looking around to check if anybody was into hearing distance and, now and then, sneaking guarded looks towards his companion.

Unfortunately for them, mortal hearing range and elven hearing range were at two entirely different levels. With a little concentration, Legolas managed to catch every word.

"Crabbe and Goyle will recover in a couple of hours, sir," the lackey said nervously.

"Do I look like I care what happens to these two idiots?" Malfoy hissed back threateningly. "I want Dumbledore's little spies dead. Hunt them down and kill them. Preferably before they reach Hogwarts."

"But…"

"Perhaps you want me to tell the Dark Lord who failed to keep our reunion secure?" Malfoy asked unctuously.

The other man's steps faltered for a second. But afterwards, he straightened his back and, trying to sound nonchalant, asked "They are only two, Sir. What could they do against us?"

"Idiot. For this remark alone, rest assured our Master will hear of your incompetence," Malfoy announced calmly. "The only one who is opposing the Dark Lord is that fool of Dumbledore. But even he can not do anything if he knows nothing. That's why he has spies. At no cost must Dumbledore learn what they have heard today. Is that clear?"

"I'll bring you their heads," Fear and a desperate resolution to make up for his mistake permeated his voice.

"Do that. Otherwise it will be your head I'll offer to the Dark Lord. Take Wormtail with you. I expect news of you success tomorrow. You know what awaits you if you fail?"

"Y…yes."

"Good," Malfoy said, grimly satisfied. He turned towards the other man and whispered coldly in his ear "Do not disappoint me. And don't forget to bring back the ball."

Without waiting for an answer, he disapparated, leaving his companion frozen in fear. After a moment, though, he recovered and looked back over his shoulder to ensure no one had followed them. He did not look in the copse of trees beside him.

There was no one behind him and he left the road to head for the forest, never realising an elf was following him, despite the few covers this barren lapse of land offered until the trees. But men's perception had dimmed with time and still fewer were those who could feel the weight of an Elda's scrutiny. And once Legolas reached the trees, the Death Eater lost all chances to catch sight of his pursuer. 

The elf let him get ahead of him and sighed. Hogwarts was in the other direction. _Our reunion will have to wait a little longer, my friends_, he apologised silently. 

After a ten minutes' walk, the Death Eater rejoined a waiting group of men.

"Pettigrew!" he barked. "Which way do you think they would take?"

"I… I'm not sure," a small blonde man stuttered.

"Please," the dark-haired man sneered cruelly. "These are your old friends. You have to know how they think. It's in your interest to help us find them. Maybe then, the Dark Lord will be indulgent with you for forgetting to mention earlier that Black was an Animagus. Although it isn't likely. We've counted at least five meetings during which a black dog was spotted nearby. Five!"

"How could I have guessed he would work for Dumbledore?" Pettigrew tried to defend himself pitifully. "He spent twelve years in Azkaban. He should be… he is completely mad!"

"Mad with rage, you mean," his interlocutor mocked. "You betrayed the Potters' and framed him. And now, you're hiding among us from him and Lupin. They want you dead, Wormtail. Aurors and Lupin's kind are persistent this way. It's your fault they take so much interest in our reunions."

"That's not true…"

"Spare your excuses," he dismissed him. "Macnair!"

A broad-shouldered man replied, "I can follow the human traces, Nott. But once they'll transform…" he trailed off.

"We'll deal with this then. The moon is rising soon. Let's go."

He led the eleven other men into the forest. Legolas watched them go, eyes narrowed. He had read the wizarding newspapers after Voldemort's fall fourteen years ago and he had been horrified to learn about the Potter's betrayal by their best friend. Now, it would seem an innocent man had been wrongly imprisoned at Azkaban under the guard of the Dementors. He repressed a shudder. _Dementors_. The origins of these creatures were unknown but those who remembered the Second and the Third Age of Middle-Earth could recognise a chilling echo of the Nazgul in them. Some traces of the old world still remained in this one. Shaking sadly his head, he shook off these musings. Now was a time for actions, not for reflections. He would watch the Death Eaters and help Black and his friend should they be in difficulty.

And so it started. A dangerous game of hide and seek that moved deeper and deeper in the forest and penetrated into a realm of older, darker and foreboding trees.

At nightfall, the Death Eaters separated into four groups to increase their chances to catch their prey. Nevertheless, Black and Lupin managed to stay ahead of them most of the time without Legolas' intervention. To the elf, their movements seemed strangely erratic; the two pursued sometimes circling back to position themselves behind the Death eaters, at other moments stalling just in front of a group of Death Eaters. In these cases, Legolas drew the dark wizards' attention and led them astray. That was easily done. These men hurried towards the smallest sounds but never thought to look up in the old trees.

Right now, perched in a tree, Legolas listened to the three Death Eaters just beneath him. Nott and Macnair were cursing Sirius Black and Remus Lupin vividly while Pettigrew stood trembling on the side.

"We're all going to pay for this if we do not catch them before sunrise," Pettigrew moaned.

It wasn't the first time one of the Death Eaters made this strange comment. They seemed to think Black and Lupin would stay in the forest until sunrise and reach Hogwarts to slip from their grasp then.

"Shut up, Wormtail," Nott snapped. "Macnair, are you sure you saw them over here?" he asked testily. He was the apparent leader of this mission and he bullied mercilessly his companions. Ruling by fear. _Some things never change. _All those who professed to call themselves Dark Lords and theirs followers always tried to rule by power and fear.

"I'd swear I saw them over here, Nott," the other man affirmed. He did not seem to mind Nott's bullying so focused on the chase he was. That man seemed to have devoted his entire life to an unique goal: the pleasure to kill. 

But he would not have the pleasure of killing the two Animagi here. Legolas too had caught a glimpse of two flashes of black and silver in this direction. But when they had disappeared behind some bushes and out of sight, the elf had relied on his other senses and his ears told him the two canines were long gone. Voldemort's servants would find nothing here.

_Time to check on the other groups.___

The second group of Death Eaters wasn't very far. Their loud voices led him straight to the edge of a large glace. As Nott's group, they were cursing Black and Lupin to the lowliest hell they knew. And they were also scared. They knew dawn was only a couple hours away.

Letting them go in the direction of the first group, Legolas wondered again at this association of failure and dawn. He dropped from his tree and watched the wizards move away. They were no orcs to fear sunlight so. _Then, what am I missing?_

A branch cracking near the other side of the glade interrupted his musings. _Third group._ This one had learned the value of silence during a hunt a few hours ago and gave a little more difficulties to Legolas since then. But they would never walk silently enough to escape an elf's notice. Still, they were heading his way and Legolas resolved to stay out of sight.

Without a sound, he ducked behind a bush.

And found himself nose to nose with a silver wolf. _Lupin's__ Animagus form. _But the gleam in the golden eyes and the snout didn't correspond to those of a normal wolf. Dimly, Legolas realised he had found the missing piece of information that had him puzzled all night.

_Werewolf.___

####

Sirius Black was not a happy man. Dog. Animagus. He had had a bad day and he was having a worse night. Still, every little scratch he earned to protect Harry was worth it. Sirius would do anything to keep his godson safe. That included spying on Death Eaters to stop Voldemort.

The problem was that this time, he had given himself away during the meeting of the Dark Lord's servants and Wormtail had recognised his Animagus' form. He had only managed to get away thanks to Remus' diversion. His old friend had never followed an Auror's training but his supernatural reflexes compensated the lack of formation and he was inventive. He had to be, after seven years of creating confusion to cover James and Sirius' asses at Hogwarts.

_It was supposed to be a simple spying mission_, Sirius repeated mentally and a whine almost escaped his lips. _A mere sneak in and listen. _Remus should have had plenty of time to lock himself up for the full moon. Sirius and he could even have gone in the Forbidden Forest, allowed Padfoot and Moony to play as they used to before … before everything. Instead, they had fought against a few Death Eaters to be able to enter the southern edge of the forest before nightfall. Since then, they were chased by the dark wizards and to complicate the matters, Padfoot had to keep Moony from chasing the men. _Remus__ will never forgive himself if he bites somebody. Even if these bastards deserve to be cursed and suffer the rest of their pitiful life._ He fought to keep another whine from emerging and the pouch he was carrying seemed to grow heavier. _It's my fault._

Malfoy had brought a strange dark crystal ball to the meeting, giving it to another Death Eater to be studied. He had claimed the crystal, about one foot big in dimensions, was indestructible and he wanted to know what it was. The reunion had started afterwards, unveiling some of Voldemort's plans. Those chilled Sirius to the core and he resolved to inform Dumbledore as soon as possible. He had planned to go to Hogwarts to see Harry, anyway. The last and most puzzling news was that Voldemort wanted some Muggles the Headmaster had taken under his protection brought to him. But Sirius had probably heard wrong. At this point in time, he had managed to sneak near the abandoned pouch, pushed by his curiosity. It was then Wormtail had arrived, seen him and given the alarm. Sirius barely managed to grab the pouch and bolt.

He almost whimpered as he cursed his impulsivity. _Malfoy__ was merely curious about that crystal and I screw the mission and risk Remus' life because of this. It wasn't supposed to happen, _he complained silently again. But it was the next thought that succeeded in breaking the whine loose, wasting breath that would have best served helping him run. _I wasn't supposed to lose Moony._

He should never have relaxed his guard.

Once inside the forest, Remus and he had managed to lose the Death Eaters long enough for the moon to rise and for Remus to transform into Moony. The situation had become more difficult then. The wolf scented the humans and wanted to hunt and kill them. Padfoot had all the trouble in the world keeping him from following his instincts and trying to lead him into the deeper and more dangerous part of the forest.

Thankfully, the wolf had seemed to understand his pack mate's urgency and never strayed far from the dog. Sirius had never so grateful for the fact that Padfoot's proximity helped Remus control somewhat the wolf's instincts.

Nevertheless, there were some close calls. Just because Moony stayed close to Padfoot did not mean he could not manoeuvre them either directly onto the path of some Death Eaters or just behind them. Each time Sirius realised this, it was almost too late. The men were into hearing distance and the human voices drove the wolf mad with rage. The only thing Padfoot could do was to try to distract Moony and hope the Death Eaters went another way.

Miraculously, however, the Death Eaters never stumbled upon them. Time and time again, the men imagined having heard something in another direction and headed on a wrong track. Once the voices went out of hearing range, Moony relented and accepted to follow Padfoot's lead. For a short time, anyway. But long enough for Sirius to be persuaded he had a guardian angel somewhere, somehow and he thanked all the deities he had ever heard of for sending it to him.

These relieves were eventually the causes of Sirius' mistake. The momentary luck had lulled him into a false sense of security and he let his guard down. Padfoot had been stressed all night, hackles almost constantly raised, and until then, he had had no means to exorcise his fears. Padfoot wanted to fight or relax and play. Fighting was out of question as long as Moony had the smallest risk to enter the fray and bite somebody so he relaxed.

Several times this night, he had smelled a somewhat fleeting scent. He never stopped to check but he thought he recognised vaguely a human's scent tangled with some wood, leather and steel. But each time he came across this trail, Padfoot was thrown off and wanted to inspect it more thoughtfully. This time, Sirius indulged his inner dog. Moony was beside him and the Death Eaters were downwind and out of hearing range. He didn't think they risked anything.

So, he focused on the scent and examined it to his heart's content. The more recognisable odors were the leather and the steel, mixed with a little oil. The wood was trickier. Padfoot could smell distinctly polished wood but fresh wood also seemed to be an integral part of the human's unique smell. And something was wrong with this smell. He would be hard-pressed to explain how but he was sure of this. It was intriguing. The smell was so fleeting, so faint, that he would never have caught a whiff of it among the other overwhelming odours in a city.

A branch cracked near him and Sirius swore silently. _Damn these Death Eaters! _ The noise came from downwind, letting Sirius some time before the wolf recognised human presence. He raised his head to nudge Moony and found himself alone. Moony was gone.

A cold hand seized his heart as he listened to the sounds around him, trying to locate howls of rage and cries of human pain. There were none for now. He bit back on his first urge to howl after his missing pack mate and lowered again his nose to the ground. _There. _His paws moved almost before his brain told them to.

He had to find Moony before the Death Eaters killed him or before he killed some of them. But he couldn't run fast and follow closely the trail at the same time. He almost growled in frustration. He would not even be able to find Moony by sounds for the wolf could be as silent as a ghost. _He can not have gone very far, _he thought anxiously. _Not in so little time._

He sniffed again and almost froze. _Men_. Panic reared its ugly head. _Not now, not so close to dawn…_, he pleaded. He took another desperate whiff. _Wait. _The two scents separated after a few steps. The Death Eaters had passed here after Moony_. _The wolf hadn't crossed them yet_._ At the edge of his tether, he abandoned all prudence and set off at full speed - and noisily – after Moony. _Fuck stealth. I'll hear the Death Eaters if they are close. _He would not lose another friend to the dark wizards.

_And if Moony hear me, he'll come and take a look at what I'm doing._

Any creature with decent hearing in this forest would either go into hiding or come investigate the noises he was raising by snapping the lowest branches, crushing the brindles on the ground and making the fallen leaves crisp without a care. Sirius was certain Moony would recognise Padfoot's presence and rejoin him. That was why he almost barrelled into a silent and immobile wolf on the other side of a luxuriant bush. An immobile wolf virtually on top of a crouched man.

Sirius' mind froze in horror.

But Moony did not look poised to attack. Rather, his muscles were relaxed, ears tipped forwards with curiosity, nostrils flaring slightly to sniff the air and he was tilting his head quizzically. He finally turned his head towards Padfoot and whined questioningly.

That prompted Sirius' muscles, if not his brain, into actions. Advancing with tottering steps, he too took a whiff at the stranger. He bore the strange scent he had examined earlier. The blonde man was wearing a blended mix of Muggle and wizard clothes: closed grey trench coat and dragon leather boots. _Strange._He would have drawn a first curious glance in the Muggle and the wizarding world. But he wore these clothes with so much natural ease the curious would probably have dismissed him at a second glance.

With a little surprise, Sirius realised he was almost touching the man's chest and sniffed again instinctively. Something clicked in his mind. _No sweat. He doesn't sweat. _And there was something else wrong in this human-like scent.

"Sirius Black, I presume?" the man said. Moony did not react at the voice.

_And why should he?_

Baffled, Sirius sat back on his heels, contemplating the enigma before him. A man who didn't quite have a human scent and didn't quite have a human voice.

####

Legolas watched the Animagus fall on his backside and smirked internally. _Mortals are so easy to tease._ The wolf probably sensed his amusement at his companion's expenses for he turned his back on the elf, slapping him with his tail in the move. 

"And werewolves still have their quirky temper_", _he mock-scowled at the wolf.

The silver canine ignored him with majesty and pawed at the dog to snap him from his daze. The massive black dog was panting heavily, a heavy-looking pouch dangling forgotten from his lips. No doubts Black had panicked when the wolf had come to Legolas. And now, he found him in company of a man who was not a Man. _He looks rather overwhelmed._

The wolf finally lost patience at his black mate's bewilderment and shouldered him with force. Being pushed to the ground brought Black to reality nicely and he immediately rose to place himself between the wolf and Legolas, hackles rising. The werewolf let him stand before him with bored disinterest and the elf blinked once.

"I mean no harm," he said calmly, extending his empty hands forwards with the palms up. "You and your friend have nothing to fear from me." _Not in this age, anyway. _The world had changed and the clear black or white shades of Middle-Earth had blurred into shades of grey. Werewolves were no longer Morgoth's creatures.

He looked from the still growling dog to the tranquil wolf with growing comprehension. _Pettigrew's old friends.___

"Lupin must be very lucky to have a friend like you." Werewolves were usually shunned by wizards. For this wolf and this dog to be so familiar with each other, they had to be pack mates since a long time. _Since before Black's imprisonment._ _There is still hope to be found in Men, after all._

From across the glade, voices approached and the wolf's ears perked up. _Oh no, you don't,_ Legolas thought.

"_Daro__."__ Stop._

The wolf froze for a second and then turned on the elf, snarling in response at the command. Legolas changed tactics. He whispered calming words, pleas for assistance and approached slowly the werewolf. He was stopped by a warning growl. _Black._

"You know the Death Eaters are coming this way. If the wolf focuses on my scent and my voice, he will let them pass without attacking," he explained softly. "I know what I'm doing."

The dog hesitated. His eyes flicked over the listening wolf. From their left, another group of Death Eaters could be heard approaching. The retreat was cut. The canines would not be able to pass without attracting the Death Eaters' attention, even if the werewolf didn't attack.

"Trust me," he whispered. _We don't have much time._

Black relented and let Legolas kneel in front of the wolf. 

"Will you let me touch you, _Mither_?" Legolas keep talking softly, his voice below a whisper. The men would not hear him but the wolf would hear distinctly every word. The elvish terms intrigued him. All beasts that weren't fundamentally evil understood that language. _First part done, _Legolas mused. Lupin was ignoring the human voices in his favour. He could only hope he would also ignore the human scent and that the Death Eaters would leave fast. 

"Damn it! I heard the dog heading this way and I did not hear him leave. Where has the fucking beast gone?"

The Death Eaters were searching the bushes near their location. Black lowered his head, seemingly ashamed. He had not been discreet coming over here and now, the dark wizards knew where they were. _And they are too near. I can not leave the wolf to divert their attention, _Legolas swore siletnly. At this moment already, the werewolf was agitated, starting to fight out of the elvish spell. _We're going to have to fight. _The elf opened his coat, readying himself to take his weapons. The wolf shoved his nose inside with curiosity and Legolas pushed him back gently. Another snout touched him, demanding his attention. 

Black was holding a stick between his teeth. Legolas took it, lifted an eyebrow, shrugged then smiled his thanks. _It could work. _He listened for a second to pinpoint the Death Eaters' position and threw the stick behind them.

"Did you hear that?"

"He's passed behind us. Let's go." 

It wouldn't take long for the wizards to realise there were no more sounds in this direction. As soon Legolas judged they were far enough, he tried to get up and leave. The dog grabbed him by the coat.

"The sun will soon rise. You should get your friend as far as possible from the Death Eaters before his transformation. I'll led them another way," he said. Black did not let go of his pan of coat.

"You are in no condition to negotiate, Master Black," Legolas stated sharply, annoyed. 

The dog growled low in his throat in response at the sharp tone and the wolf followed his lead, baring his teeth. _Pack mates,_ Legolas sighed mentally. _What threatens one threatens the other. _He shook his head.

"I was going to Hogwarts when these men's behaviour caught my attention. Be it at dawn or at the school, I swear we will meet again. Will you go now?"

Black released the coat but stayed where he was, still hesitating.

"Go," he commanded.

The wolf bolted. Throwing a last look over his shoulder, the dog followed.

####

"Did I hallucinate or was there really a man with us this night?"

Remus sounded wiped out. He looked wiped out. He did not look as if he had argued with a dragon and lost. _Thanks Merlin for small favours. _The wolf had been calm during the transformation. He had only torn superficially at his left arm. As soon Remus was entirely human, Sirius had transformed at his turn, handed his friend his clothes and dressed the wound before letting him recuperate. For the moment, Remus was sitting against the arrows-pierced tree signalling the edge of the centaurs' territory and Sirius was standing beside him. They were safe there from all the other dangerous creatures of the forest. Even the Acromantulas and the vampires knew better than find themselves on the bad end of a centaur's deadly aim. To keep himself busy, Sirius was sharing the information he had heard at the Death Eaters meeting but Remus hadn't said a word until then, worrying his friend.

"It was a collective hallucination in that case because I saw him too," Sirius gave a feeble attempt at levity, relieved to hear his friend speak. Remus merely leaned his head back against the trunk and they fell back into silence. Eventually, Sirius blurted out seriously, "Remus, I'm sorry. If I hadn't got myself spotted, they would never have been chased us on a full moon and you would never have risked biting someone. And I'm sorry for risking your life for a stupid ball."

His friend contemplated him silently for a few moments. "Sirius," he started finally.

"Yes?"

"Pass me that crystal." Remus' long suffering look triggered alarm bells in Sirius' mind.

"Why?"

"Because it's supposed to be indestructible and I need something to hit you on the head," he deadpanned. That made Sirius flinch and Remus sighed at the sight. "Neither of us is hurt and you stopped me from biting the Death Eaters," he explained quietly. "I'll probably worry about it another day but right now, I'm just glad nothing happened. There is nothing to be sorry for." When he didn't receive a response, he asked with determination, "Remind me which of us insisted I came yesterday."

Grimacing and squirming slightly, Sirius replied hesitantly. "Hum…. Not me?"

"Exactly. Hence, I did not hear you apologise to me for something for which you weren't responsible," Remus announced firmly. 

After a few more moments of silence, Remus re-engaged the conversation. "So, did I hallucinate or was there really a man with us this night?" 

He extended his hand and peered up expectantly. Chuckling and relieved, Sirius helped him stand up. "It was a collective hallucination in that case because I saw him too."

"Moony was persuaded he wasn't human," Remus commented thoughtfully. Catching Sirius' eyes, he nodded in Hogwarts' direction. He had not rested nearly long enough and both Sirius and he knew this but they couldn't stop long. They still had work to do. Pleasantries and rest could wait until later. __

"So did Padfoot," Sirius agreed soberly. "Do you have an idea on what he was?"

"He was on his way to Hogwarts," interrupted a clear voice. "He was also under the assumption you too were going there."

At the first word, Sirius and Remus whirled around, wands pointed unfailingly on the source of the voice.

"And a fair morning to you too, Master Black, Master Lupin."

The stranger was back. _I did not hear him arrive,_ Sirius noted. _And I can't hear the lyrical accents in his voice anymore. _He studied him from a human perspective in the shaded light of the trees. The man-like creature seemed young, in his mid-twenties at the most. Blonde hair, blue eyes, rather high cheekbones but otherwise, his face was rather common. Someone you could have passed in the street without noticing. He was still wearing his grey trench coat and his backpack and looked singularly unruffled by the two wands pointed on him. _Altogether, he looks remarkably… ordinary._

Out loud, he commented, "You look human."

The creature blinked in response. "Thank you. So do you. The pictures in the newspapers do not do you justice."

Sirius had vaguely the sensation he was being mocked. Narrowing his eyes, he replied dryly, "What can I say; I need a comb to look good."

That response surprised a joyous laugh out of the stranger and he shook his head before bowing slightly. "_Elen__ síla lúmenn' omentielvo._Shall we go? I have some people to see."

A little thrown off by the unknown language and by the abrupt change of subject, Sirius was surprised to feel an answering grin tug at his lips against his will. The stranger's merriment was contagious and Sirius could not help but let go of his initial irritation at the perceived slight.

"Aren't you supposed to introduce yourself first? You know that I am Remus Lupin and that my friend is Sirius Black but we do not know your name." Remus asked politely, lowering his wand. 

Sirius followed his example. After all, the stranger had helped them escape the Death Eaters earlier and didn't act threateningly. _And if he tries anything, we still have our wands in hand, unlike him. _

"The name on my identity card is Lawrence Green," the stranger stated.

"That's a human name," remarked Sirius. "As you're not human, I guess it's not your true name."

"My true name is Legolas. I am an Eldar. In your language, I would be an elf," he continued.

Remus and Sirius shared a puzzled look. "You look nothing like a house-elf."

Legolas scowled. "Men have given them the same name but there is no relation between us." Sirius had no trouble believing that. Legolas had none of the house-elves' obvious mannerisms and he certainly had not their appearance.

"We've never heard of your kind before," Sirius remarked. _But if I hadn't seen Moony not attacking him, I would have taken him for a human, scent slightly different or not. Except for the wolf's behaviour face to him, heseems entirelyhuman._

"We try to be discreet." A small smile, as if he was saying a private joke. 

That answer made Sirius feel faintly mystified without being able to pinpoint the exact cause. A glance towards Remus showed him that his friend too was puzzled, his brow furrowed in reflection. Choosing to ignore this feeling for now, he asked another important question. "Why did you help us?" 

Legolas shrugged before answering. "I could say it seemed the right thing to do but you wouldn't believe me."

"No kidding…" No one was that altruist. Not in this world and not in these times. _Everyone has reasons for what they do. _

"I have friends to find at Hogwarts and it would probably be for the best if Professor Dumbledore had causes to trust me." Sirius blinked. _He answered my question. Then why do I have the feeling I know even less than before?_

"Where are your weapons? And your wand?" Remus asked suddenly, deciding to change subjects. Sirius let him take the lead. He too wanted to hear that reply. Legolas was carrying steel and wood, both Padfoot and Moony had scented this.

"I have no wand. I am the equivalent of a Squib. As for my weapons…" He opened his coat and exposed the inner left side to sight. _There is nothing there. What…._  A silver flash appeared. The elf was drawing a sword from the sheath strapped on the inside of the coat. Sirius' attention was drawn to the weapon. Strange runes were engraved on the hilt and at the base of the blade. Legolas twirled it with ease before sheathing it back into the folds of his coat. Both sword and sheath disappeared from sight. _Although …_

"A notice-me-not charm." Remus sounded as impressed that Sirius was.

The elf nodded. "With experience or the right materials, invisibility spells can be seen through. But unless you know it's here, you have to possess both an immense power of perception and an even greater strength of will to penetrate this spell."

"But it's not foolproof," Sirius commented. Canine senses had allowed Sirius and Remus to discover the presence of steel. 

"It is enough," the elf stated firmly. _How does he do that? _It should be impossible to sound both quietly confidant and haughtily arrogant at the same time. "Most wizards will never realise it's there. Their eyes will slide over the sword without ever registering its presence." And he was right. Sirius and Remus hadn't remarked anything and Sirius was certainly more powerful than most. Although Albus was much more powerful and would probably see through any spell which didn't involve an actual transformation. But, if it was a charm and he was really a Squib,

"How…"

"I have friends," the elf smiled enigmatically.

"Even if you do not have a wand, you have an object made of wood on you," Remus noted.

"Yes." The elf nodded. And did nothing more.

"So?" Sirius was getting impatient after a few seconds of silence.

"So." Legolas repeated imperturbably. _What the hell is going on?_

"Aren't you going to show us?" he pushed. 

"If you insist," the elf shrugged. _Is he laughing at us? _Sirius was unsure and that irritated him. Without a word, Legolas reached behind his back and grabbed the side of his backpack. When he brought back his hand forward, he was holding a long bow. Making a full turn, he displayed briefly a quiver full of arrows and two white handles. _The backpack was an illusion. And I didn't notice anything. He could have killed us before we even realised he was there._ It was a troubling thought.

"Why are you hiding all these weapons? In the wizarding world, they would merely have been dismissed as a quirk of your personality," Remus remarked quietly. 

"Because I'm also moving trough the Muggle world," came the logic answer.

It made sense. But Sirius recognised the stubborn look on Remus' face. He had stumbled upon an enigma and was trying to resolve it. _James and I might have been the leaders of our little group but Remus usually pointed out the loopholes in our plans. And those in Hogwarts' rules, too. Something doesn't add up in the elf's story._ Said elf stayed silent, watching them calmly. 

"Do you realise there is something wrong with your story?" Sirius asked suddenly, looking intently at Legolas' face. _How is he going to react?_

A lazy smile spread slowly on his lips and a hint of mischief shone in his eyes. _That was not what I expected. _"I told no lie."__

"But you didn't tell all the truth either," Remus shot back. He massaged his temples. "Have you ever been told you were infuriating?"

"Fey, whimsical, arrogant, insufferable and infuriating have often been used to describe me, once upon a time." And he sounded smug about it, too. 

"Did it occur to you it would be much faster if you told us everything at once instead of waiting for us to ask the right questions?"

Legolas tilted his head to consider the matter, a small smile still playing on his lips. Eventually, he replied. "I have also been told I had a twisted sense of humour and a stubborn streak wide enough to span the vastest ocean in the world." 

Sirius started to massage his own forehead. One of the standing directives of the Order of the Phoenix was to look for possible allies against Voldemort. They would be forced to play the elf's game to discover more about him. _Albus__ is not paying us enough to do this job._

####

_Daro_: Stop

_Mither_: Grey one

_Elen__ síla lúmenn' omentielvo:_ A star shines upon the hour of our meeting

_Next chapter: Reunions_. They will meet. Finally.

####

**Sabriel-chan**: No, I did not forget Imrahil. He'll show up later with Lothiriel. And when I say later, I mean either around chapter 10 or in November. And we're still in mid-September in the fic.

**Alynna**** Lis Eachann**: More Gandalf is coming when he'll decide to show up. *grin*. Of course Glorfindel will make an appearance! Elladan and Elrohir will tag along too. 

**Neth**: Somehow, I've found a lot of similitude between Harry Potter and LOTR. Expect comparisons and parallels to be drawn now and then.

**Menolly****: **The answers will come. But no, I do not think the ministry will use veritaserum to discover whether or not the Fellowship is telling the truth. One, it's a very controlled product and if Snape had some, it's because he is an excellent potion Master and two, even if they suggested the idea, Albus won't allow it. Hospitality has some rules. Anyway, with all the weirdoes already wandering in the wizarding world, seven more people with delusions will not cause problems. And the ministry's opinion when Legolas'll show up? Wait and see. You liked the owl? Just wait until Gandalf and Elrond meet the Ringbearer's new Precious.

**JadeiteZ****:** My beta told me the same thing. I suppose Messrs came originally from French but in my dictionary, it can also be used in English. But you're right, it does sounds a little too formal. Will change that in the revisions, when I'll have the time to do them.  I'll talk about Eldar and house-elves now and then. Gimli will mention this rather often. 

**Aro****: **Revenge will come but vengeance is a dish best served cold. In other words, the twins' payback isn't yet for the next chapter.

**Rogue Solus:** Legolas' talents as a Squib? Good question. Very good question. *takes a look at her plotline and check it over and over again* Excellent question even. I don't have a clue. *ducks and looks for cover* That question will be answered one way or another, thanks for pointing out what would be a plot hole before it appeared. And…Precious will be back. We like Frodo'sss Preciousss.

**Ashley: **Aragorn'll definitively find out what his powers as a Squib are. For the others, I don't think they will have the opportunity to discover them. Remember, some Squibs have lived all their lives without knowing what their abilities were…

**Tori**: You sure know how to praise a girl, Tori. I write like JK? *blushes, opens her mouth to say something on par with one of the best writers of the century and close it again, still mute* I looked for something inspiring but all I could find is thank you. Wow. And you're right; Aragorn's names are going to raise some interesting questions. The Hobbits call him Strider, his other friends call him Aragorn, the elves are going to slip and call him Estel, Imrahil will call him Elessar… The HP people are going to be confused.

And I never said I was French. Same language but different country. Je suis Belge, en fait. Il y a une faute dans la première ligne? C'est assez embarrassant. Je sais, j'ai déjà vu des fanfics bourrées de fautes en Anglais – et si je les ai remarquées, c'est qu'elles étaient vraiment flagrantes. Mon histoire n'en a pas beaucoup en comparaison mais je pense qu'un texte est beaucoup plus agréable si le lecteur ne doit pas s'arrêter pour se demander si un mot existe réellement. 

Oh, et Faramir réapparaîtra un peu plus tard. Patience ! Et j'ai bien lu les fics de Scribe qui est sur ma liste des auteurs favoris. A plus !


	6. Chapter 5a: Reunions

**Disclaimer: **All recognisable characters, concepts, sentences and objects belong to someone who is not me. I'm not trying to steal anything. Except a little glory. And fame. I wouldn't mind any Dark Lord's army at my back if someone decides to sue either.

**A/N: **   The story is of course an AU of Harry's fifth year. I may or I may not revise the story after I've read the book but the setting should stay Harry's fifth year. I've heard rumours that Rowling would kill off at least one character in the Order of the Phoenix and I'm sure I need whoever it is still alive.

This universe is a mix of both books and movies. The recognisable quotes come thus from either the books or the movies. But even if some sentences come from the scenes at Helm's Deep, I believe firmly Legolas was the only elf there. No elf ever died at Helm's Deep. End of my useless little rant as the events of Helm's Deep have no effect here.

            Thanks to all the reviewers, I'm really, really awed by all the responses I got for this fic. I've nearly 100 reviews when I sum the three categories in which I posted. Wow. All comments are appreciated, be it on the plot, the grammar, the syntax, anything.           

[]: Common Speech or Westron.

Last note. I love this part. I do, really. Especially the second half.

****

**Chapter five a: Reunions ******

****

If there was only one thing to be said about Mad-Eye Moody, it was that he was vigilant. There were absolutely no mistakes about that. Such a trait of character had served him well to survive during his time as an Auror. Nowadays, the ex-Auror was physically too slow to be in the field but he was still as sharp as ever. It was a fortunate occurrence for Hogwarts as he was put in charge of the security in the castle and of its grounds, though the Headmaster refused to completely transform the school into an inapproachable fortress. 

For his part, Gimli was hesitant about whether or not to be glad of this arrangement. On one hand, the students of the school were well protected. On the other hand, said students were going to be short one Defence against the Dark Arts professor.********

"To this day, the Dark Lord has only failed once in his intent to kill. Potter has not escaped unscathed; you did. It is rather hard to believe. You-Know-Who is extremely powerful and he is able to introduce spies into the most unexpected places."

"Speak clearly or keep your insinuations, old man," Gimli growled in response. He took a step forward, staring down at the limping man. "We have never and will never serve any Dark Lord. And I will be glad to teach you this truth with…"

"Gimli," Aragorn interrupted him firmly, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder. "That will be quite enough. The children are watching," he reminded sternly.

The former dwarf glanced around, realising that most Gryffindors were indeed watching anxiously from a respectable distance, even the ones on their brooms. _A formidable first impression we're giving. Curse wise-sounding old wizards and their strange ideas! _He glared darkly at Dumbledore while Merry and Pippin argued with Moody.__

"Professor McGonagall saw you handle the Weasley twins," the Headmaster had said earlier. "According to her, if you can manage to inspire these two's respect, you'll do fine against any other. She'll still wait and see how your lessons fare but I do not think she will trouble you. Most other professors will argue at first but they'll give you a chance because of Minerva's approbation. Once they've acquainted themselves with the idea and with you, they'll accept you. All the professors but two. Severus is a very complex man and has his own mind. You will have to deal will his unique reaction in your own time. But Alastor's help will be precious to you when the Aurors'll arrive this afternoon. But you have to convince him to believe you." And he had taken a step back to let Moody _discuss_ with them. As promised, he had not interfered once. It was one hour ago.********

The morning had started well enough, though. The weather was perfect for outdoor activities. They had met with Fred and George at the entrance of the castle and been introduced to the rest of Gryffindor's Quidditch team. A quiet boy with striking green eyes behind round glasses and with dishevelled hair, Harry, who had looked startled to see them and three girls, Alicia, Angelina and Katie, who had immediately started to whisper about the 'cute' younger men (the Hobbits) and the two 'hunks' (Aragorn and Boromir). The twins had not been amused. The Hobbits had. The Men had simply been embarrassed. When Gimli snickered a little too loudly however, Aragorn pointed out Angelina 'liked red-heads and thought men with a powerful build had a certain appeal'. He stopped laughing then.

On the pitch, they had been rejoined by the Weasleys' younger brother Ron and another girl, Hermione. Both gaped on seeing them there and whisked Harry away to talk under the twins' smug gaze.

The gaze became filled with consternation when they saw Hermione raise her arms in the air in exasperation and walk away from a befuddled Ron and an equally dismayed Harry. After a few more words, the green-eyed boy pushed his friend in the girl's direction. _The joys of the teenage years.___

The try-outs started soon afterwards, and both Ron and Hermione approached nervously the Fellowship to explain the rules of Quidditch and ask some questions about them. Other Gryffindors were interested too, including a slight boy who asked if he could take a picture of them and blinded them with the flash even before they had the time to finish answering. Students from other Houses also came and went. All seemed to humour the Fellowship when they claimed to have memories of a previous life and nodded dubiously before changing subjects. 

_Magic is normal and dark creatures are a common fact of life but reincarnation? Complete rubbish_, Gimli had concluded mentally with some amusement. The only kind of magic Gregory Morrison had believed in was the skill Las Vegas showmen demonstrated to separate their audience from their money. And until two days ago, Gimli, son of Gloin, had always thought wizards and elves were the only ones with a chance for a second life. He didn't begrudge them their doubts. Mentioning Voldemort could have changed the students' minds but the Fellowship hadn't done that. It was Albus' school and Albus' students. If he wanted them to know Voldemort's doings, he'd tell them himself. The official story for now was that Albus got them out of a '_tight spot'_, invited the untrained wizards at Hogwarts and hired the older men as teachers. Soon enough, however, the children were absorbed by the flyers' aerial acrobatics. As Sam had put it, "I'm no expert but they sure can fly."

Halfway through the try -outs, after the current team had chosen a Keeper to guard the goals and two Beaters who would take over the Weasley's posts before the end of the term, Albus and Moody had arrived, asking the students to leave them some space to talk.

One hour later, the paranoid ex-Auror was still not satisfied. But frustration and anger were starting to boil in Gimli's veins. Patience had never been his best friend and he had had quite enough. "Do you know what I think of these palavers?" 

He uttered contemptuously three words in Dwarvish.

"I am ignorant of the meaning of these words but I agree with the sentiment," Boromir intervened. "You refuse to be convinced by mere words," he resumed, eyes narrowed in concentration. 

"You renounce, then," Moody concluded darkly.

"No."

Aragorn put enough command in this one word to gather the attention of all. Rising from his chair, he straightened to his full height before striding purposefully towards Moody. "Have the Men of these days forgotten the worth of a word of honour? Have the liars and the oath-breakers become so common truth can no longer be recognised?" He paused, grey eyes full of sadness never leaving Moody's. The ex-Auror was growing agitated but appeared unable to break Elessar's gaze and even the magical eye ceased to roll to focus on him. 

"I am not a man of this time, Auror." The tone grew harsher and so did the former King's face, gaining an implacable and frightening intensity.  **That** was the man who had commanded armies and led them to apparent death. And even knowing this, the men had followed him willingly, proud and glad to serve such a lord.  "For me, an oath is as binding as a contract signed in blood. It is the only thing I can give you and I offer it now. The shadow may hold sway but I have never nor will I ever submit to it," he swore solemnly.

Finally drawing his eyes from Moody, he extended his fist and looked at Boromir. 

The son of Gondor matched him gaze for gaze as he approached. Glancing at the extended fist, his eyes took a reflective look. But when he looked back at Aragorn, his features were resolute. "The shadow held sway over me once and I lost my road. But I found it again. This time, I will hold to it, [my liege King]." The man put his hand over Aragorn's.

"Men of Gondor. Your brother told me once '_We are truth-speakers, we men of Gondor. We boast seldom, and then perform, or die in the attempt',_" Frodo remembered with a fond smile. His smile grew sadder. "I lost my road too. Sam brought me back. I'd never have been able to do it without him. But the shadow has never and will never find me compliant." A third hand.

"You falling into shadows doesn't risk happening again, does it?" Sam remarked with a small smile. "But if you do, I'll be there to bring you back. I never let a friend down," he promised.**__**

"Well," Pippin spoke in his turn, "the Shire was not Gondor. But there were brave people there too and we loved light and laughter." He looked at the clasped hands. "For the Shire. And Gondor, too," he added after reflection and he put his own hand over the others.

Merry covered his cousin's hand. "For the Shire. And Rohan." He hesitated. "Can I speak for…"

"I'm sure Eomer will appreciate," Aragorn answered dryly.

Gimli was the last. "For Durin's folk," he swore simply before nodding towards Aragorn

The man retracted his hand and turned back towards Moody. "This is our word, Auror. Take it or leave." The wizard hesitated. "Decide now! My patience is not infinite," he pressed, a fiery light in his eyes.

"I believe you." Moody looked startled to have said these words. Gimli wasn't. _Men followed him to their death because of his strength of character. And despite all odds, they triumphed, seemingly thanks to his will alone. You never stood a chance, Auror._

"The matter is settled then," Aragorn held Moody's gaze for a couple more seconds before relaxing. He headed back to his chair, slouched in it and unfolded his long legs to look calmly at the flyers. Gimli snorted. _Strider is back._

Boromir watched the Ranger move with consternation. "Someone please tell me his schizophrenic tendencies disappeared once he arrived in Gondor."

Three answers came at the same time. "I'm not schizophrenic." "They became less obvious." "No." 

A question followed. "He is schizophrenic?"

Pippin was horrified. "Frodo? You never noticed?"

"To be frank, I just thought being unstable was in his character," he explained. He turned to face Aragorn. "After all, the first time we met, you scared me shitless, asked me if I was frightened and when I replied yes, you told me I wasn't frightened enough then undertook to scare me further."

Aragorn groaned and put his head between his hands. "Are you ever going to let me live it down?"

"Are you going to apologise?" Frodo shot back.

"No." He did not even hesitate.

"There you go." Neither did Frodo.

"I can see why you like them, Albus. They're as crazy as you." Moody commented finally. "I will still watch you, boys. But I do not think you are working for the Dark Lord. What kind of help do you need with the Aurors?" he asked gruffly. 

"The Ministry has already agreed to let them teach here," Albus cut in. "What we need to do is to convince them that Peter Pettigrew was working with Voldemort. As you have pointed out, it is so extraordinary they have managed to survive that any other version is more believable." 

"Trying to clear Black? I'll help. Black and Potter were my students; I never thought one would be able to betray the other. Not after some of the stunts they pulled. But I have to admit Black was magnificently framed. Does Potter know?" he looked at Harry while the boy dived under a Bludger. _Harry?_ _That was Harry Potter?_ Gimli stared curiously. The boy had appeared mentally well balanced and did not seem to be the attention-starved kid Conrad had described. _But then, Conrad's an imbecile and Albus did say the kid didn't want particular attention.___

"He discovered it before me." The old man turned back towards the Fellowship. "Have the twins already introduced him to you?" He resumed after their nod. "Fred and George will be among the most difficult students because of their … alertness. The Slytherins too will probably be problematic in your classes as you are so connected to Muggles. Harry Potter is generally a good student. But you will have to watch over him." He turned to look at the boy and nodded when the boy glanced back. "James Potter had a predilection for looking for trouble. His son has one for attracting trouble. And he has also received this slight disrespect for rules from his father and a fierce independence from his mother. If trouble finds him, he will try to deal with it on his own."

He was interrupted by a growl. Blinking, he looked towards the source of the noise before slowly raising his eyes to find Sam's blushing face.

"Sorry."

"Quidditch players often forget essential things like eating when they have to play. Did the twins forgot to bring you breakfast?" 

"No. But I'm hungry again. Don't mind me."

A second growl was heard. "That was me, this time," Pippin raised his hand feebly.

"Time for second breakfast?" Boromir guessed with dread. Aragorn nodded in confirmation.

"What's second breakfast?" Moody asked.

"You do not know second breakfast? All civilised lands knew second breakfast," Pippin started to explain. "First breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, tea, …"

"I'm sure they get the picture, Pippin," Aragorn stopped him in his tirade. "In their past lives, they used to have six meals a day. I guess they want to take up that custom again?" he finished with a question.

The four Hobbits nodded decisively.

"Are your bellies going to growl until they are filled?" Albus asked with growing amusement. Another collective nod. "You'd better go and find Minerva, then. She'll find some food to feed you." He looked over the little ones' shoulder and added, "I think Ron and Hermione will be happy to help you look for her."

The Hobbits did not ask for more and left at once. 

"Wait for me, you overgrown legged stomachs!" Gimli followed suit, acknowledging Aragorn's worried look in passing._ I'm not leaving them out of my sight._ "I could do with a little something, myself."

####

"Well, that definitely confirms it. They have never someone like us until now." Merry burped. "But Professor McGonagall was very kind to give us a plate that refilled itself automatically."

Beside him, Ron finally recovered the use of his voice. "How did you manage to eat so damn much?"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped from her own daze and glared at the boy.

"Sorry." He said automatically, not even bothering to change his awe at the Hobbits' performance into a contrite look at his use of profanity.

Merry laughed. "Call it an innate gift."

"I'd rather say a curse, Master Meriadoc. You've eaten me out of house and home more times than I can count," Gimli mock-glared at the Hobbits.

"You love us anyway, don't you, Gimli?" Pippin pleaded over-dramatically, turning big and instantly teary eyes towards him. "We took great pains to never let you starve, you know."

Gimli chortled. _Who would have thought the Hobbits would become drama queens in the modern world? _"No, you never let me starve. And that's your one and only redeeming trait," he added mock-sternly.

The boys shook with silent merriment, trying to be more discreet. They were coming back from McGonagall's office and their laughter had already drawn several times the attention of the students they crossed in the hallways. _And what hallways these are_, Gimli admired. The old castle was remarkably well built. From what he had seen, the foundations of stone were solid, deeply anchored in the earth and the corridors high and large. Of course, they would be quite chilly during winter but that was to be expected of buildings above earth-level. _Overall,_ _not as grandiose or flawless than the dwarves' greatest achievements but not bad for men._

"Can I ask you something?" Hermione asked suddenly. _About time._ Gimli had had the impression the girl could burst from curiosity at any moment and was about to give up on waiting for her. Hermione had spent her time throwing them intrigued looks when she wasn't gaping at the Hobbits. It would seem none of the questions she'd asked until then were the ones that really mattered to her. __

"Go ahead," Frodo smiled encouragingly.

She opened her mouth then closed it again. Now she had decided herself to ask her question, she didn't seem to know how to formulate it_._ _Kids! _"What were you arguing about with Professor Moody?" she blurted out finally.

Gimli's eyebrows rose in admiration. Earlier on the bleachers, none of the students, even the oldest ones, had dared to ask what had happened between Moody and the newcomers. Now he thought about it, he did suppose their behaviour had been tense, and even threatening. Furthermore, the DADA professor was not someone whose business could be lightly intruded upon and Gimli had a very imposing figure. Asking frankly that question took guts.

"It could be private matters," he started to respond.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to intru…"

"But actually, we were convincing him we were not working for Voldemort," he finished. He expected her to turn wary of them. Instead, she surprised him again. After a small flinch at the use of Voldemort's name, she turned pensive.

"But that's ridicul… oh."

"It's crazy," Ron burst out. "You were attacked by the Dark Lord, how could you be working for him!"

"Ron!" Hermione gasped. It was a little late. The four Hobbits and Gimli had frozen and the boy flushed at his false step. Nowhere in their discussion had they mentioned the fact Voldemort had attacked them.

"How do you know that? Only the staff has been informed until now. And even they do not all take our word at face value," Sam commented with suspicion.

"I… we…," Hermione stammered, panicking a little.

"Did Professor Dumbledore tell you how he found you?" Ron interrupted decisively. At his interlocutors' shared puzzled look, he resumed. "Then, neither will we." He crossed his arms, challenging them to try and ask him something more, though the expression on his face was a little less sure than his posture.

Gimli shook his head and rolled his eyes. "There are really strange happenings in this school."

"Keep your secret," Frodo shook his head in amusement. "The Valar know we keep some of ours."

"Well… Thanks," Ron said simply, relieved. Nevertheless, Hermione punched him in the arm and glared at him. He shrugged helplessly in response.

"Is that why you were so interested by us?" Merry asked, giving her an opportunity to question them further.

Hermione frowned. "Yes. Mainly. Are you really going to teach us to fight?"

"These four will learn magic," Gimli nodded towards the Hobbits and headed back towards the entrance of the castle. "But Aragorn, Boromir and I will teach you how to duck, mainly. And how to call it quits and run too."

"Oh." Ron and Hermione did not seem to know what to make of that. The girl was trying not to look relieved while her friend seemed a little disappointed.

"Actually, we haven't had the time to talk about what you would need to learn with Professor Moody," Gimli resumed. "But ducking, calling it quits and running will be on the list."

"But if we have to fight bare-handed, say… Professor Lupin?" 

_Who? _But Ron was already hurrying towards the man who had just passed the door.

"Professor Lupin! Snuffles!" A smile lit up Hermione's face as she followed Ron. The tired-looking man smiled back and the massive dog at his side barked in greetings.

"Hello Ron, Hermione. How are you doing?" he asked, shaking hands with the children.

"Fine, Professor." Diplomatically, they refrained to ask how he was feeling. The man looked like death warmed over, with an ill taint and circles under his eyes. Despite the silver streaking his light brown hair, he seemed young and a spark of amusement danced in the hazel eyes. 

"Fighting me bare-handed, Ron? Why ever did that idea come to you? I have it on good authority a good hex could finish me off." he teased gently. For some strange reason, Ron blushed in response.

Merry coughed, drawing the children and the man's attention. Professor Lupin's eyes flicked over them then behind his back with an expectant expression as Hermione reacted. "Oh. Sorry. Professor Remus Lupin, former DADA teacher, meet Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo and…"

"Gimli. Son of Gloin." A voice interrupted her. A man appeared at the door behind Lupin. Gimli gasped and heard dimly sharp intakes of breath beside him. But he did not turn to check on the hobbits, all his attention focused on the apparition. 

"_Mae govannen, mellyn nin."_

_I know that voice. But the face…._ The face evoked something familiar, yet Gimli had never seen it before. Destabilised, he discovered he had trouble breathing properly. The blue eyes were too dull and the skin didn't seem to glow with an inner light. The cheekbones were high but the rest of the bone structure looked off. For humans, such a face had nothing remarkable but if it was him…__

"Leg… Legolas?"__

_There!_ The tilt of the head was pure Legolas. _But the face….__ We all have kept the same face. Why not him? _His friend had lost his ethereal fairness. No, it was more; some lines of the face had changed. Even without the glowing skin or the pointy ears, he shouldn't have that different a face.

"Legolas?"_ How can my voice sound so unsure? It's not like it's the end of the world. _Legolas nodded but his eyes were unreadable. The gaze wasn't intense enough, Gimli remarked, but the inscrutable expression was correct. He continued his perusal and lifted his hand but froze before he could touch the face. 

"Legolas?" His voice was firmer this time but incredulity filled it. A flash of comprehension passed in the too dull eyes.

"[A mere illusion, dear friend. The Eldar still live on]," he explained. Incertitude and hesitation crossed briefly the eerily familiar face. "I've missed you."

Gimli stared stupidly before feeling a grin trying to break free on his face. _Yes. _Without even thinking about it, he crossed the few steps separating him from the elf and engulfed him in a bear hug. Legolas stiffened at first before wrapping his arms around Gimli. _I'm taller than him now and at least thrice as big,_ Gimli realised suddenly and that made him laugh. If his laugh was a little hysterical; if Legolas' hold was a little too tight, a little too desperate, the dwarf could not find it in himself to care. 

_Yes.___

"Legolas," he breathed the name again, confirming once more and for all the identity of the body in his arms.

"I always knew wordsmithing was not among your talents, Master Gimli, but surely even you can do better than repeat my name endlessly," the elf's muffled voice, full of emotion, came back.

There was also a faint trembling tone in Legolas' voice and that note, imperceptible to all but Gimli told him exactly what his elf wanted. _Laughter to keep the tears away.__ Crazy elf. You don't want to start crying in front of strangers, do you? But you're right; we'll have a more private reunion later. _Blinking his own tears of joy away, he huffed out loud, squeezed harder and lifted his slender friend off the ground to spin him around, shocking a breathless laugh out of him. "Feeling better, Master Lightweight?"

"You're breaking my ribs, you oaf! Let me down!" the elf complained indignantly. But he was laughing in delight and holding Gimli back with all his own strength so the dwarf ignored him. Still, a moment later and after another spin, he released the elf, grinning.

"You found us." 

"You doubted me?" __

"Never." 

A dazzling smile. _No, your appearance did not change **that** much._

Gimli's smile grew even bigger and he gave a mighty pat to Legolas' shoulder, almost sending the elf sprawled on the ground. _Ooooops__.__ Might have misjudged my strength a little bit. _He tried to smile innocently but instead, he felt the corners of his lips seek to twitch even more upwards as he crossed his fingers behind his back. "You're really there," he tried to divert the elf's attention.

But rubbing his injured shoulder, Legolas gave him a suspicious and dark glare. Looking down on Gimli, an amazing feat since the dwarf was now taller, he drawled, "As usual, your grasp of the obvious leave me speechless."

_That little…_ "It is my height that leaves you speechless, my _friend_," he shot back with heat. "How does it feel to be dwarfed?" A look of pure shock passed over Legolas' face and Gimli smirked in satisfaction.

"Dwarfed?" the offended tone turned considering then dismissive in a blink of the eye. "It would seem your improved height is getting to your head. I hope it helped it grow harder too, otherwise you would knock yourself out each time you forget to lower your head to pass a door."

"What!" Gimli roared, outraged. 

"Enough! Enough! I ask for mercy," Frodo cut in between two hiccups, holding his stomach. 

"And you're scaring the natives," added Merry helpfully, sending Frodo into another fit of laughter. 

"No, we aren't," Legolas protested, looking at Ron, Hermione and Professor Lupin. The latter seemed to be nursing a headache while the two children gaped at them like madmen.

"They won't mind this, then," Pippin smirked before leaping into Legolas' arms. The elf managed to catch him but lost his balance when Merry tackled him at his turn. The resigned look on his face was priceless when Frodo and Sam rejoined the others dangling from his neck and sent him crashing to ground.

_The sun is shining, we have convinced Moody to help us and the elf is down. _Gimli grinned in satisfaction. 

_Beautiful morning_. 

####

"What do you think is taking them that long?" Boromir wondered, nearly one hour after the Hobbit's departure. The try -outs were finished and the Quidditch players were in the changing rooms. Aragorn, Albus, Moody and he had congratulated the selected ones before walking leisurely back to the castle.

"Who knows?" Albus replied, absent-minded. "Perhaps they have eaten one of the twins' Canary Creams and are waiting for the yellow feathers to disappear in the infirmary."

Aragorn looked incredulously at Albus. "It was a rhetorical question, Albus. I'm sure they're fine and probably still eating. There is a truce between the twins and our friends until we are more familiar with the layout of the castle." But a doubt nagged his mind suddenly. Something about Hobbits and wizards. _Or rather, wizards leading Hobbits to find dragons, palantiri and even rings of power. _"I'm reasonably sure they're fine," he corrected with some measure of dread. 

"If you want to be absolutely sure, you can always ask Granger and Weasley. They're on the stairs," Moody pointed out.

The redhead and the bushy haired girl were indeed talking with agitation on the stairs. As soon as they saw the adults, they stopped their discussion and headed towards them.

"Where are the others?" Aragorn asked curiously.

"In the DADA classroom," Ron replied, a strange mix of perplexity and amusement in his voice. "They're waiting for you. And we, hum, well, we gotta go and hum…"

"See how Harry is doing," Hermione continued timely. "May we go?"

"A moment," Moody demanded. "Did you leave them alone?"

"No, with Professor Lupin and …"

"Snuffles," Ron filled the blank.

Hermione nodded with energy and repeated slowly, as if trying to convince herself it was the right version, "We left your friends with Professor Lupin and Snuffles."

"Remus is here?" Albus asked for confirmation, an interested glint in his eyes. Curiously, Aragorn saw Moody put a hand in his robes and turn to frown at the forest.

"Yes, he said he would talk with you later, sir." Hermione became a little worried. "Nothing's wrong, I hope?"

"I did not expect him so soon, Miss Granger," Albus smiled reassuringly. "But Snuffles and he are staying for at least a couple of weeks."

"That's great!" Ron exclaimed. "May we go tell Harry?" Ron asked. 

Albus nodded and the children were gone in scarcely a blink.

"You realise they're hiding something," Moody commented with a touch of accusation.

"These two and Harry Potter are always hiding something, Alastor," the older man replied. "But they will not talk unless they wish so. Don't worry. Miss Granger has been named Prefect this year because she is a very responsible person. If their secret turns too dangerous, she will warn a Professor." He paused then added as an after-thought, "Of course, Miss Granger is also a Gryffindor and her definition of too dangerous may differ somewhat from what should be expected. But she is _usually_ a very sensible young woman."

Aragorn and Boromir exchanged incredulous looks. _Albus is slightly mad; Moody is paranoid; some of the professors we've met yesterday are downright eccentric and the students are lunatics. What kinds of people live in this school? _Making a mental note that Albus had not really answered Hermione's question, the Ranger shook off these speculations and sighed. "In this case, I am nearly certain our friends are merely preparing a prank of some sort." **__**

"A prank when you're about to be interrogated by Aurors?" Moody wondered sharply, giving a double take to Aragorn and Boromir.

"We'll answer any question they'll ask when they'll be here," the son of Gondor replied proudly. "Why should we stop acting normally until then?"

"Gimli will put his foot down if the little ones are too unreasonable," Aragorn added for the former Auror's benefit. "But you'd better get used to this attitude of theirs. They could talk your ear off or continue to act merrily even when the world is crumbling about them."

"It is a lovely disposition," Albus commented.

"'I wouldn't have them any other way," Aragorn replied sincerely. _Except maybe when I want to throttle them_, he conceded mentally. "Where is the DADA classroom? And what can you tell me about werewolves? Considering what some legends are saying about wizards, I'm not sure I can trust those about lycanthropes."

And the stories from Middle-Earth, accurate enough in those times, didn't necessarily apply nowadays. The werewolves who had all served Morgoth had disappeared before the Third Age. But even in the modern world, these creatures did not have a good reputation in the legends. Aragorn wanted to know if this infamous reputation was deserved.

Five minutes later, he had learned werewolves were cursed humans who transformed into wolves during the nights of the full moon. Losing all control over their actions, they attacked or killed men and no other creature. The other days of the month, they were normal people but they were still shunned by wizards.

Albus added he trusted Lupin with his life on normal days and would trust him over others even during the full moon. For his part, Moody said Lupin had never shown any inclination for the dark side.

"But," he added, "It would be much more advantageous for any werewolf to join the Dark Lord."

"It would," Albus agreed sadly. "But Remus won't."

He didn't elaborate further. _There is a story there, _Aragorn realised but he didn't press. Giving a side-glance to Boromir, he saw the other shrug imperceptibly. They would form their own opinion on Lupin when they'll meet him. But for the moment, Aragorn didn't know what to think of a society who used slaves – even willing ones – and discriminated a part of their population to the point that those concerned would do better if they joined someone bent on destroying said society. A sudden bark interrupted his musings.

"Looks like Snuffles is playing sentinel," Moody remarked.

"Lupin's dog?" Boromir asked, examining the source of the bark. The black dog guarding an open door was massive. Barely smaller than Hagrid's own hound, he was taller and bigger than all the dogs Aragorn had ever seen in this life.

"Snuffles doesn't belong to anybody," a tired but smiling man appeared at the door. "If he could stay with anybody, it would be Harry. But students can't keep dogs at Hogwarts and I found myself looking after him before I knew what happened. Good morning Albus, Professor Moody." He finally turned towards Aragorn and Boromir and added on a good-natured tone. "I'm Remus Lupin. Some of your friends are rather overwhelming."

Aragorn blinked at the non sequitur but shook an offered hand, studying the man. His hair was streaked with premature grey and the gold- flecked hazel eyes were surrounded by tired lines but he appeared friendly. And he was older and more worn out but it was recognisably one of the men on the wedding picture Albus had shown yesterday. 

"I'm Aragorn and this is Boromir," he introduced himself and his companion before asking in an equally relaxed and friendly tone, "Which friends?"

"And overwhelming, Remus?" Albus intervened, amused. "Wasn't it you who claimed the Weasley twins were fun to teach?"

Lupin opened his mouth to answer but he was interrupted by a yell. "Strider! Boromir! Come on, what are you waiting for?" came Pippin's cheerful voice. He poked his head through the door.

Merry, as to him, emerged completely from the room and rolled his eyes when he saw them immobile. "Get moving," he demanded impatiently. "Oh, while I think about it, you lost the bet, Strider. It did not even take them five minutes. Remus, you don't mind talking with them later, do you?" he was already pulling the two mystified men forwards.

Looking over his shoulder, Aragorn saw Lupin shake his head with a strange glint in his eyes. "Go ahead. I'll present either my congratulations or my condolences later." He turned then to speak with Albus and Moody in a low voice.

"We told you to just go with the flow and not try to understand," Merry threw back in commiseration without looking back. Aragorn and Boromir stopped then, forcing Merry to pause too and stepping sideway to stare at the Hobbit.

"What did you do?" Boromir asked. From the corner of the eye, Aragorn saw Gimli exit the room.

"Pip, Frodo, Sam and I didn't do anything."

Boromir raised an eloquent eyebrow, glancing towards Lupin.

"Actually, I wasn't talking about these four when I said your friends were overwhelming," Lupin intervened.

"Then who were you talk… Merry," Aragorn interrupted himself suddenly to address the Hobbit.

"Yes?" Merry grinned from ear to ear.

"Which bet were you talking about?" Aragorn asked on a deliberately detached tone. Somehow, he had the feeling the answer to that question was connected to some rather _overwhelming _friends of theirs. 

"The Naugrim. Me. Estimated time before the insults start flying. You lost. Again," the answer came from a slightly mocking voice behind Gimli. _Legolas.__ Of course._ Aragorn snorted and closed his eyes, leaning up on the wall behind him. He felt suddenly drained of a tension of which he had not allowed himself to acknowledge. Dimly, he heard Legolas and Boromir greet each other. _The elves did come back on these shores,_ he thought with relief.

A moment later, he felt a presence in front of him. "Well?"

"I'm still foolishly hoping you'll take the hint one day and leave me what little sanity has not fled yet in your presence." Opening his eyes, he lifted a corner of his mouth in greetings.

"You're late," he said, looking the elf up and down. Surprise and confusion flashed through his old friend's eyes.

"You look terrible," he added with a mischievous smile. This time, amusement and recognition crossed Legolas' face. In truth, the elf did not look terrible for a man but he had a rather un-striking face. The bone structure was slightly different from what it used to be, dulling Legolas' features and diminishing his attractiveness. Considering the fact that unlike him, Arwen still had the same face, this change could only lead to one conclusion. _No wonder no one has ever heard of the elves with this kind of disguise._

"And surprising enough, you look…" Legolas paused for effect, examining him thoroughly, "…tidy."

Howls of laughter welcomed that remark. Chuckling warmly, Aragorn detached himself from the wall to embrace the elf. "As strange as it sounds, I found myself missing your sharp tongue and quicker wit. Well met, Legolas."

"It has been too long, Aragorn."

####

_Mae govannen, mellyn nin: _Well met, my friends.

Next:_ Chapter five b:_ _Reunions. _

**Aro****:** Legolas did not get paid; not in money, anyway. But I'm sure he had a lot of fun baiting Sirius and Remus. ;)

**seer-cassandra****: **Give some credit to the twins. The four of them. They do have some restraint and will try to leave Hogwarts standing. But a wall or two and possibly a ceiling will suffer and it won't even be their fault. *grin*. I love being a tease. And why only the twins? What about Legolas and Gimli? Merry and Pippin? Sirius and Remus, the last two Marauders? The list is scary, isn't it? 

**Tori:** Pas le même continent? Voyons voir, il y a les départements français d'Outre-mer, le Québec, quelques pays d'Afrique et je crois que le Viêt-Nam aussi compte quelques francophones. Okay, quel continent en particulier ? Chocolat… Hmmm. No comment. 

Merci pour le compliment. J'essaie de faire de mon mieux et je suis contente de voir que ça plait. LOL, les Travaux d'Astérix ? Ca fait des années que je n'ai pas lu cette BD. Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé ensuite ? Si je me rappelle bien, ils ont défoncé tous les étages pour s'en sortir, c'est ça ? Les sorciers anglais n'auraient pas beaucoup apprécié si Legolas avait fait cela. Je n'ai pas cette BD chez moi mais par contre, j'ai Astérix Légionnaire. La scène où il cherche le bureau des renseignements est aussi du même type. Et Legolas peut se compter heureux que je ne l'ai pas envoyé à l'agence de location de voitures, à Diagon Alley, au manoir des Riddle's….

I'm not done with Sirius and Remus yet and even less with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. After all, this story happens in the Harry Potter universe. Progressively, the fic'll focus on him. Actually, it will happen in …hum. Well, a rather long time will pass before that, in fact. For the moment, I'm focusing on the eight members of the fellowship who are here.  This reminds me. Where is the Stromcrow anyway? Never mind, he'll show up in good company. I hope you liked Aragorn/Strider/Elessar's 'schizophrenic' moment. Makes me wonder just how much time that man spent with Gollum/Smeagol. And you forgot Dunadan. And Thorongil too but I can't find any reason to use that name.

**Wiccanwitch**** : **Nederlands?Ik spraak een beetje Nederlands. I had lessons in Dutch during six years, plus two years during primary school. I started college this year. And yet, I've the impression to have forgotten almost all I've ever learned in this language. I'm sorry to say I never particularly liked it. But I'll still give it a try. Hoe gaat je? Ik heb je aanbid niet vergeten maar de correcties zijn nog niet klaar. And I'll stop here before making mistakes. The tenses in English are supposed to be tricky but I always had more trouble looking for the verb at the end of the sentence in Dutch. That's why I avoid using these kinds of structures. Anyway, thanks for the encouragement!

**Sailor Sol:** So, my first language is French, I'm writing a fic in English and I've just brushed up my Dutch. Unfortunately, I never learnt Spanish. That would have made some rather interesting replies to reviews… 

**Alynna**** Lis Eachann:** Thanks a lot. Flattery will get you anywhere. Unfortunately, faster is not negotiable. Real life takes a lot of time and energy. And I too love Sirius and Remus. That's why I'm making them hang around Hogwarts for some time. And then they have to leave. *Sigh*. But they'll come back! 

**Child of Autumn:** This fic **is **a drug. There is no other way to explain all the time I spend thinking about it. Does that mean I've created a monster?

**JadeiteZ****: **:) yes, the elf is insufferable. But we love him anyway. And you're right on the other point, too. Do you think Trelawney should get the ball? *wicked grin* After all, nothing looks more like a dark crystal ball than another one. Neville has surely broken one or two of these items in his time, so this indestructible one would be _very_ useful to Trelawney. Be scared, be very scared by what I could do with this.

**Astraea****:** The slow pace at the start was my main worry. Thanks for telling me it works. But now all the main characters are in the same place and the pace will pick up soon.

Actually, posting the story in only one category is easier for me because I don't have to upload several times. If I followed precisely the rules, this story should be posted in the crossover section. But technically, it's a speculation on the future of Middle-earth and its characters which also happens to depict Harry Potter's fifth year. It should be in all three categories. But, as you've said, rules are rules and I prefer LOTR…

**rogue**** solus:** Don't get your hopes too high. I meant it when I said that would have been a plot hole. My storyline is very, very flexible but Legolas or any elf's Squib talent has never reached my mind. Now, I'm looking for a power which won't influence the story. Somehow, I don't have the feeling that saying he still hasn't found out his abilities would work, knowing he has spent a few thousands years back on Earth. And no, Sirius and Remus are definitely not paid enough. 

**Lunawolf**: Not a crossover? Why not? It has characters from both Tolkien's and Rowling's universes. What's the exact definition of a crossover, anyway? And thanks for reading.

**Computer: ** Oh yeah.

****


	7. 24 June: BAWEE

**Disclaimer:** you recognise it, it's not mine.

**BAWEE (Because Aislynn Wanted the Extended Edition)  
**Scene taking place between chapter 5a and 5b  
Added 24 June 2005

A/N: Thank you all for the feeback, it's a great incentivetowriteand if you're still reading this story, thank you for your patience. See? TaBA hasn't been abandoned. It's just going very slow. Actually, it's very, very, very slow, being written out of chronological order and competing with anime (and other crossovers) for my attention. So, sorry, don't know when the next update will be. Oh, and about the fight in chap 5b, would you please stop jumping to conclusions! g> I know the Death Eaters wouldn't attack Hogwarts at that point, and _they're not_. I like my villains with a brain, trust them to have a plan. A farfetched one, maybe, but they have a plan.

**--------------------------------------------**

Waiting for Albus and his quests to arrive, Remus found his mind wandering. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been that amused simply watching people '_interact'_.

It might have been that time Lily kicked James out of their house because she could only deal with one enfant at one time. Unless it was the day James and Sirius tried to convince Arabella Figgs to let them try out different '_exotic_' fur colourings on her cats. _Merlin, it was so long ago…_ Even the Weasley twins hadn't been that entertaining. Sure, trying to guess their next move had become a game for him and he'd seriously wondered whether they'd catch up with the Marauders' detention record. But Fred and George had never done that. They had never inserted taunting quips into the conversation at every opportunity, single-mindedly tried to get a rise out of the other. Remus would have thought Legolas and Gimli were bitter enemies forced to collaborate but still attempting to push the other beyond his limits if he had not witnessed their reunion.

But even then, he had had doubts on the status of their relations until Pippin had assured him this was a normal behaviour for the two friends. "They're keeping it cool, actually. They greeted each other and the arguments are still somewhat making sense." The young man had sighed in disappointment.

Remus hadn't known what to make of that piece of information but Frodo had merely laughed. "Pippin is just sore because he bet they'd skip the greetings and go straight to the arguments. He forgets Legolas and Gimli can behave if they have to. But he is also not exaggerating, unfortunately. These two can be much worse than that."

"Today, they acknowledged the other's existence," Merry had commented drolly.

"Missing Gimli is rather hard to do, Merry," Legolas piped in at that moment. "Discretion's never been a part of his vocabulary, and stealth even less."

"At least, people acknowledge my presence, unlike yours. I'm awed by the fact I ever realised your existence at all," the quick repartee had come. "Who won the bet and what was the wager, this time?"

"Frodo. He bet you'd greet each other then start arguing inside five minutes without letting Legolas say hi to anyone else." Sam had answered with a smile, pausing to let Legolas and Gimli salute Frodo's victory. "And no wager. Strider didn't want to."

"Aragorn didn't want to?" Legolas had puzzled on the matter rapidly. "Ah. And on what did he bet?"

"He said you'd give it two hours," Merry had announced, a big grin on his face.

Gimli had snorted and Legolas had arched one fine eyebrow before they had shared a bemused look. "Either he is getting more realistic or it's a hint. Should we take it?" Gimli had wondered.

"Where's the fun in that? Aragorn knows better. And of course you observed my presence. Common people always look up to their betters."

"Don't you mean look _down _on lowlier beings?_"_

Legolas and Gimli had started another outrageous round then with Merry and Pippin egging them on. For his part, Remus had started to wonder which of the reluctant grin or the confused frown would become a permanent fixture on his face. He felt tired deep to his bones, certainly too tired to figure out the dynamics of this group but still willing to enjoy the atmosphere of warm camaraderie and the good-natured, although intense, discussion. Keeping up with the whimsical and quicksilver Legolas on the way to Hogwarts had exhausted the meagre reserves of strength the moon had not drained and he wished for nothing more than a bed. The restorative liquor he had drunk earlier - _Miruvor, Legolas called it – _had helped keep the fatigue at bay for a time but even its effects had almost entirely dissipated._ I wonder if there is a spare room left in the Staff section. Poppy must have a lot to do in the infirmary without having to fuss over me._ _Although I remember she liked to fuss…_

"Legolas. What have you been doing?" A exasperated question interrupted Remus' musings suddenly. Opening eyes he hadn't realised he had closed, he saw Frodo staring at Legolas with a little reproach.

"I've been doing what I always do," the elf answered with genuine curiosity. "I live, I breathe, I sleep occasionally, I eat…"

A pained groan came from all the people in the room as one. Gimli immediately added a string of muttered insults. With surprise, Remus caught the words '_of all the fey, whimsical, arrogant, insufferable and infuriating creatures…_'

"I thought we had agreed to wait until everyone was here to start the explanations," Legolas ignored Gimli and cocked his head, waiting for Frodo's response.

But it was Sam who intervened. "You groaned too!" he exclaimed, turning towards Remus. Confused, he nodded, having no idea what the problem was. But Legolas seemed to have caught on.

"He asked me some questions when we met this morning. I answered as I could. I admit it might have wearied Remus further than I had intended."

"Further than you had intended?" Gimli repeated incredulously. "The poor man is asleep on his feet!"

"Your point, Master Gimli?"

"My point? Are there no limits to your flightiness, Master Legolas? He looks like he should be sleeping the week away; not playing the guessing games with foolish ---" Gimli spat a strange word.

_What?_ _Never mind. _Through the haze of fatigue, annoyance filled Remus. Taking a deep breath, he intervened calmly, "I'm still here, you know."

Gimli had the grace to look somewhat abashed and gave a small shrug in apologies before rounding on Legolas again. The elf, on the other hand, merely raised an eyebrow and stared back. Remus tried to hold his gaze but turned away after a moment, the clear eyes seeing too much to be comfortable.

"Did we miss a part of the story?" Merry wondered, looking back and forth between Legolas and Remus.

Legolas' laconic answer hid a wealth of meaning. "Probably."

Gimli snorted. "Well, he's improving. Now, it only takes him one word to be non-committal."

"_He_ is here."

"Yes you are." A beat passed and Gimli's exasperated expression became suddenly fond. "By the way, have you been told lately how incredibly maddening you are?"

The elf laughed softly then glanced towards Remus. "Well, now that you mention it…"

"This morning, repeatedly and at great length." Remus continued with a sigh.

That drew everyone's attention but Sirius barked at that moment to announce Professor Dumbledore's and the rest of his guests' arrival.

"You've got some explaining to do. Just later," Merry promised before heading out the door.

Greeting Albus, Moody and the two other men, Remus profited from the occasion to study them. Aragorn, alias Strider, alias Adam Dawson was a little taller than his companion, but Boromir was broader across the shoulders. They were both physically fit and seemed to possess a great strength of character. _They need it to deal with their friends. _For the moment, they also appeared to feel some small measures of dreading expectation and Remus couldn't resist adding to the mystery. "Go ahead. I'll present either my congratulations or my condolences later," he finished when Merry dragged them off.

Sensing Albus' thoughtful gaze and Moody's suspicious one, he added in a lower voice, "If you see something off about their friend, don't do anything. We'll explain later." _There is_ _lots and lots of explaining to do, actually_, he sighed mentally.

Albus considered the matter for a second before giving a nod of agreement and Moody followed his lead reluctantly. Just in time. Remus wanted to see if the reunion would be as entertaining as before.

"Pip, Frodo, Sam and I didn't do anything," Merry was saying smugly. Boromir looked back at Remus. He was the one who had first used the word overwhelming.

"Actually, I wasn't talking about these four when I said your friends were overwhelming," Remus explained, trying to repress his smile. _But I have to admit they're likely on par with the Weasley's. They're setting you up beautifully._

Aragorn was the first to reconstitute the puzzle. "Which bet were you talking about?" he askedin a level voice. The expression on his face was much more interesting. Deliberately closed off but there was still something shining through in his eyes. _Hope? Fear?_

"The Naugrim. Me. Estimated time before the insults start flying. You lost. Again." Legolas made his entrance. Boromir whirled around to face him entirely but Aragorn had the strangest reaction. He leaned back on the wall and closed his eyes, shoulders slumped.

"What the hell!" Moody muttered. Following the former Auror's line of sight, Remus observed he was not watching Aragorn's reaction but staring intently at Legolas. The elf was ignoring the wizards to grip Boromir's arm in a warrior's clasp before hugging him. Both of Moody's eyes were repeatedly gauging him up and down, a frown appearing on his face as he appeared unable to pinpoint exactly what was wrong. Albus too was frowning but his gaze was focused over Legolas' shoulder. _The illusion of the backpack. _The elf laughed softly at something Boromir whispered in his ear before heading for Aragorn, still not sparing a glance at Remus' group. His moves didn't betray the smallest traces of hesitation, unlike earlier when he had first frozen on hearing his friends' voices near the entrance of the castle.

"Remus," Albus' voice was demanding. He wasn't looking at Remus but still staring at Legolas, his usually twinkling eyes hard as steel.

"He gave us his word he didn't mean any harm to the school." That drew Albus and Moody' attention sharply. Remus looked back evenly. _Yes, I did say us. He knows about Sirius. But if we didn't think he could be trusted, we wouldn't have brought him here. _Onlywhen Albus relaxed finally, his eyes shining again with an intrigued little spark, did Remus turn back towards the other men - _and the elf_ – to witness, puzzled, their strange exchange.

"It has been too long, Aragorn." From Remus' perspective, this hug looked much less intense than the previous ones. But for some reason, he was reminded of his own reunion with Sirius at the start of the summer. For a moment, they had done nothing but hold each other, not speaking or moving, simply content to be in the other's presence. In front of him, Aragorn and Legolas were still speaking softly and Remus shook off this impression.

Letting his friend go, Legolas finally turned his attention towards Remus, Albus and Moody. Nudging Aragorn slightly, he said with a small smile, "Introduce me, will you?"

With an imperceptible nod, Aragorn complied. "Albus, Moody, we told you our bond involved several other people. This is one of them, Legolas Thranduilion, whose current name is…"

"Lawrence Green."

"Legolas, meet Professor Albus Dumbledore and Professor Alastor Moody. I suppose you have already met Professor Remus Lupin?"

He nodded, giving Remus an impish smile before bowing slightly his head, hand over heart. "It is an honour to meet you both. Professor Moody, your reputation as an Auror is still unparalleled. As to you, Professor Dumbledore, it would seem I owe you much for taking care of my friends."

"No thanks necessary, Mister Thranduilion," Albus said, his eyes flicking over Legolas' shoulder once again.

"Thranduilion means son of Thranduil, Professor Dumbledore. Just call me Legolas. My father's name is taken in vain often enough as it is," the elf replied, his eyes sparkling with humour. Whether it was at his own words or at Albus' glance, Remus was unable to say.

Raising a partially amused eyebrow in return, Albus opened his mouth to speak when a shrill whistle came from Moody's robes. Under the Headmaster's expectant gaze, the former Auror took out a small roll of parchment and checked it before grimacing.

"Remind me to have a word with you, Lupin."

Curious, Remus glanced questioningly at the parchment and Moody held it out gruffly. The roll was blank except for a few words.

_Front gate_

_Minister of Magic_

_Head of Law Enforcement_

_Escorts_

Remus' lightened mood disappeared at once and his mind went quickly over possibilities. Apart from having housed a criminal on the run, Remus had done one or two things the ministry frowned upon this summer. But no one except a closed circle was supposed to know this. _The Death Eaters know, or they will figure it out very soon._

"Remus," Albus' kind voice interrupted his musings, "Madam Bones is here to interview our guests. They saw Peter Pettigrew in Lord Voldemort's company two days ago."

_What?_ For a moment, his mind stayed blank as he tried to understand what this would mean. Then, the implications hit him suddenly and he raised shocked eyes to meet Albus' calm ones. Failing to find words to express what he felt, he sought out Padfoot from the eyes. Sirius looked equally dumbfounded, or at least as dumbfounded as a dog could appear but his brilliant eyes were fixated on Remus, begging him to speak where he couldn't. "You… You think Sirius could be cleared."

"Or that the kill on sight order will at least be taken down," Dumbledore rectified.

"We'll do everything we can to help," Frodo promised with compassion. Idly, Remus wondered what he looked like to provoke that feeling from an almost unknown but found he didn't care. His mind was still trying to absorb the news.

"That means the rest is up to the current ministry," Moody snorted uncomplimentary. "Do not get your hopes too high," he warned. "In this case, acknowledging Pettigrew's continued existence also means acknowledging Voldemort's return. And we know how Fudge feels about this." Fudge was in denial and still refused to admit Voldemort was back. "They could also be here for entirely different reasons. They're here earlier than expected," he also noted grimly, his penchant for paranoia resurfacing.

"Why don't we go, then?" Boromir intervened impatiently. "We won't know anything for sure by staying here."

Albus nodded thoughtfully, "We'll meet the minister and his collaborators at the entrance of the castle." Turning sideway to invite his guests to pass first, he said, "But meanwhile, Legolas, I would be curious to know how you're late." Visibly, Albus had decided to hold back the serious questions for the moment as he cast a last meaningful glance to Remus.

"You don't need to hold Remus responsible for my acts, Professor Dumbledore," Legolas said softly, catching the glance. "Entering Hogwarts' grounds was easier with him than it would have been alone but I would have found a way to come all the same." Despite the soft voice, the tone brooked no argument. All Legolas' demeanour exuded a quiet confidence as he stared calmly at Albus. "And although he considers himself in my debt, that's not the reason for which he agreed to lead me here."

A flash of surprise flew across Albus' face before he took a neutral expression again, asking Remus' confirmation of that tale with his eyes. "We'll have a long discussion once the Minister is gone," he said at length.

"Of course," Legolas agreed easily. "And it's a private joke," he added. At Albus' inquiring look, he stated, "I'm never late." Which prompted a loud snort in response from someone in front of them. Probably Gimli. "Two nights ago," Legolas started loudly, "I felt the bond which linked my soul to my friends' being strained. That's why I came. But now I'm here, I really can't fathom why I bothered at all." He sounded sincerely puzzled and Remus choked down a laugh at the tone.

"Why does it not surprise me?" Gimli's voice came back as he looked over his shoulder, with a tone of tried patience one would use to state the obvious to the simple-minded. "Your brain is so muddled it's a wonder you even remember your own name."

_Here we go again, _Remus thought and he shrugged resignedly under Albus and Moody's bewildered stares.

* * *

End of chapter 


	8. Chapter 5b: Reunions

**Disclaimer :**Aragorn is still not King in the movies. Voldemort is still not dead in the books. They and others are still not mine in real life. Guess which of these sentences will never be rectified. Here go my dreams of richness…

**A/N: **Well, the Muse finally decided to cooperate. I'm sorry about the delay but She wanted to play in the new openings OotP brought. She still does but accepted to let me back into the TaBA universe. About time. More apologies and other explanations below. Sorta.

Forgot to say this in the first chapter: this fic is going to be _long_ and I'm a _very_ slow writer. To those of you who said they were willing to wait years, I hope you weren't kidding…

Thanks to all the reviewers for their comments (and patience – sorry again). The responses are below the chapter.

**Post-OotP changes**: are minimal so far. Find them if you can… And in case I hadn't said it yet, this fic went AU after Harry's fourth year. And I was right last chapter; I'm going to need the dead one alive.

**Warning:** I've been told I needed to warn people when I wrote something funny. My beta suggested **WARNINGS: MAY CAUSE SUFFOCATION**. She would know, she's my primary victim. I present my apologies to all the others. After reflections, however, I realised that I was lazy and 'may cause suffocations' didn't cover all the alternatives. So, **WARNINGS: BRACE YOURSELF.** Consider yourselves warned. tries to whistle innocently, gives up at the third try and just _smiles_ I am so – not – sorry about that.

* * *

**Chapter five b: Reunions**

A groan of frustration rang out behind the closed doors. "That's never going to do!" After the try-outs, the old Quidditch team had taken over the changing rooms to discuss privately, letting the other Gryffindors go wherever they wanted.

"Chill, Harry. Actually, it's not that bad," George countered lightly. The rest of the team stared at the Beater.

"Yeah," Fred came cheerfully to his twin's rescue, "George and I could be gone already and _then_, you'd be in trouble."

Harry couldn't repress a shudder at the idea. _That _would effectively be catastrophic.

The main purpose of the try-outs was to find one Keeper able to protect the goals. Harry wasn't sure they'd even managed to do that. Of all the Gryffindors who showed up, only two had shone out of the lot. Which only meant they seemed marginally competent, stopping about half the Chasers' shoots. Granted, the girls were good but still…

These two were way below Wood's level and Harry missed sharply his presence. Especially since the final choice had now been his to make as the new captain.

Geoffrey Hooper was an annoying whiner with no concept of team spirit and Vicky Frobisher had admitted herself she would quit Quidditch rather than let it interfere with her other clubs. Reluctantly, Harry had taken the would-be quitter. At least the Gryffindor Keeper would not go down with a Bludger to the head from their _own_ Beaters.

"Just you two? And we, what are we? Decorative ornaments?" Angelina demanded, lifting a warning brow as Alicia and Katie crossed their arms.

"You? You are the most beautiful girls of all Hogwarts," Fred mock-swooned into his brother's arms and winked at them from there.

"And fantastic Chasers too," George continued without missing a beat, "but-"

"Your future replacements seem decent-"

"Unlike ours." The twins shared a disgusted look before giving Harry a wicked grin, "So, Boss man, aren't you glad we're still here?"

The younger boy nodded fervently. His team mates and he had taken a look at other prospective players during the try-outs and they had given Harry their opinion since he –and the Keeper- would have to find five new players the following year.

To the boys' surprise, Ginny Weasley had proven to be a good Chaser that could become excellent with some training. So were Dean Thomas and Natalie McDonald, a second year, although they hadn't confessed to '_borrowing'_ occasionally the Weasley brothers' brooms to practice. Fred and George had been speechless the ten seconds it had taken them to decide not to be miffed but proud of their baby sister.

"She's following into our footsteps," was the verdict that had all, Ginny included, do a serious double take at the girl. The pregnant silence was only broken when Dean muttered something that made Ginny giggle and hit him playfully on the arm.

That interlude concluded the Chasers' unofficial try-outs and the only immitigably positive point of the day so far.

The last part of the morning was indeed simply disastrous. There were no words strong enough to describe the Beaters who came. Except maybe dangerous to health. To their own first and then to their team mates'. Two of them had almost brained each other trying to hit the same Bludger. Others had 'merely' sent the enchanted ball hurtling towards their teammates when they finally did manage to touch it. And that was for those who didn't end up dangling from their brooms after a failed attempt at hitting the Bludger.

Harry was even now trying very, very hard not to remember any of this. Still, it was not the most urgent problem.

"In case Vicky bails out on us, don't you know someone else who could -"

"Are you all decent in there? We're coming!" Ron's voice rang out suddenly and before anyone could react, the door opened to let him and Hermione pass, trailed sheepishly by Ginny, Dean and Seamus.

"Sorry, they insisted," Dean shrugged apologetically. Ginny and he had decided to wait for the rest of the team and so had been charged to keep the meeting quiet. And Seamus had decided to stay with them since he was not often far from his best friend.

"Harry!" Hermione started, "you'll never guess who's here!"

"Well, since I'll never be able to guess, why don't you just tell me?" Harry responded testily, irritated at having been interrupted. But neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to notice this.

"Professor Lupin and Snuffles! Professor Dumbledore said they were staying for some time."

His irritable mood evaporating in a flash, Harry repeated anxiously, "Remus and S- Snuffles?" He had just been thinking about them recently and hoping they were all right. His heart lifted joyously when Ron nodded with a big smile.

"Remus?" The disbelieving voice drew his attention and he blushed slightly under Alicia's curious gaze.

"He was a friend of my parents but he didn't tell me back when he taught us because he didn't want to show favouritism. We've talked since then," he explained.

"And who's Snuffles?" Fred asked.

Harry, Ron and Hermione shared a surprised look before Ron hit his forehead in sudden comprehension. "Dang, I had forgotten you were out the day Lupin and he showed up at the Burrow!"

Harry started. He too had forgotten that. All the Weasley family minus Percy had met Sirius but only Ron and his mother knew he was an Animagus. Ron grinned suddenly, "Snuffles is a Grim."

"Ron!"

"Well, he looks like one and he scared us all when we met him for the first time," he defended himself from Hermione' stern glare. But if it mellowed the girl, it was the wrong thing to say.

"So, ickle Ronniekins was scared by a wee dog?" Fred smirked.

"No wonder we never saw it if it had to be kept out of your sight for your sake," George nodded gravely as Ron's ears turned as red as his hair, so flustered he had trouble speaking.

Turning to hide a smile, Harry remarked the other players were sneaking discreet looks towards him. Suddenly it dawned on him that he was expected to call an end to the meeting. That was his duty as captain, as had been organising the try-outs and scheduling practice would be. But the try-outs had been a necessity, which was different! Taking charge was a serious responsibility and Harry didn't know if he was ready for this. Moreover, he would have to give orders to people older that he was. _Blimey! What was McGonagall thinking when she appointed me?_

Something must have shown on his face because Hermione asked with a hint of worry, "Harry? Are you all right?"

The twins stopped harassing Ron to look at him, and so did the others, making Harry feel his doubts even more sharply. But he merely shook his head, not willing to share this with his best friends. They were dealing well with the responsibilities of Prefects; he should be able to do as well as captain. But he could talk about that with Sirius and for this…

"I think we can wrap up the meeting," he said eventually. Seeing the nods of agreement, he took a deep breath and continued, "Just think about our problem and keep me informed. I'll warn you when I'll have team practice scheduled."

"No problems. Hey, Harry, are you going to see Lupin? Mind if Seamus and I come with you?" Dean asked.

"Why don't we all go?" Katie proposed before Harry could answer. "It's not often we have the occasion to say hi to him." The others agreed immediately.

Bemused, Harry remembered Remus had been a well-liked professor, and despite the shock of learning about his lycanthropy, some students had asked him to stay anyway two years ago. Remus had refused but remained in the students' mind the best Professor of Defence against the Dark Arts they had ever had. Nodding, Harry picked up his broom and led the way out of the room, listening as the others speculated on what Professor Lupin had become.

"He still has shabby clothes and he looks dead tired," Ron remarked at one point. "Remember the first time we saw him on the train, Harry? He looks that bad. Hey, you okay?" he asked after having caught Hermione as she tripped suddenly. At her hurried nod, he continued speaking, "but he seemed in good spirits when we left him."

"Do you know why he's here?" Seamus asked curiously. "It's not usual for former professors to come back."

The Weasley's, Harry and Hermione shared a look. Remus – and Sirius – was probably here for Order of the Phoenix' business but they couldn't explain that to their friends as the existence of the Order was a secret.

"He brought one of the Americans' friends with him," Hermione said instead.

"He did?" Harry's voice joined the several others who piped up in surprise.

"Which one?" Fred wondered immediately after. "They mentioned several names so far."

"A man named Legolas. They seemed really good friends, you should have seen – Who are these people?" she asked abruptly, freezing in her tracks.

Stopping beside her, Harry followed her line of sight and saw what had caught her attention. A group of witches and wizards were striding purposefully towards the castle from the front gates.

"Isn't that Fudge?" Ron frowned. One of the wizards in the lead was indeed wearing Fudge's peculiar lime-green bowler-hat.

"And Amelia Bones, I recognise her," George added.

"Who?" Harry had the disagreeable feeling of being out of the loop again. Spending time among the Weasley's during the summer allowed him to catch up on some wizardly things, but he kept discovering things considered obvious by normal wizards.

"The Head of Magical Law Enforcement. She's the one talking with Fudge," Ron pointed her out.

"Come on, if we hurry, we should arrive at the castle at the same time as they," George said, already walking forward.

Harry followed distractedly, observing Amelia Bones. She reminded him strangely of Muggle tanks, with her broad frame and forbidding bearing. As the distance between them diminished, Harry's impression was fortified. Her very square jaw and her monocle, instead of looking ridiculous or pompous, only made her look even sterner.

She and Fudge seemed to be arguing. Or rather, Fudge was visibly arguing but Bones only replied by short phrases, plying ahead determinedly.

"A little faster, Harry, or they'll be gone inside when we'll get there," Ginny warned as she come up to his shoulder.

Startled, Harry gave an acknowledging nod and accelerated to catch up with Ron and Hermione.

But in the end, they still arrived after the other group, while they were being greeted by Professor McGonagall at the foot of the stairs.

Looking them over, Harry could see Bones and another witch on the smallish side and beside Fudge, there were four, no five-

"My, my, my… Potter flanked by a horde of Weasley's and … Miss Granger. What a wonderful surprise," a haughty voice drawled at the edge of civility.

"Malfoy." Harry clenched his hands into fists as he faced the man. Lucius Malfoy was smirking coldly as he approached to examine them and Hermione placed discreetly a warning hand on Harry's arm. But Harry had forgotten her presence. He felt winded, suffocating with rage at the idea of a _Death Eater_ at Hogwarts. Someone who had watched him tortured by Voldemort with pleasure, someone who had killed and tortured and not only on his master's orders.

"_Kill the spare._"

With a physical jerk, Harry shook off the memory and looked straight into Malfoy's eyes, concentrating all his hate into the glare. Malfoy hadn't been the one who had killed Cedric but he _would have_ given the chance. As he would with Harry. They both knew that.

The man's smile froze under the boy's heated look. Then, languidly, deliberately slowly, it grew larger, fuelling Harry's fury. If looks could kill, Malfoy would have melt like the slimy garbage he was.

"Harry, calm down!" Hermione whispered urgently in his ear. He didn't know how long she had been trying to reach him. "You're going to draw the ministry officials' attention and they don't need to think you crazier than they probably already do!"

Harry repeated his dark glare on her and she almost took a step back. At the last second though, she stopped herself and held her ground, her grip on his arm becoming even stronger. It was the pain that finally snapped him from his mood. Hermione was leaving bruises on Harry's skin, her knuckles white from the strain but still, she was smiling, as if Malfoy wasn't looking at her like a repugnant bug and she wasn't squeezing tight enough to cut off the blood circulation in her fingers. _Grin and bear with it,_ had been one of her mottos last year.

Relenting, Harry nodded once to show his understanding and made an effort to regain control of his raging emotions. Taking a calming breath, he relaxed his death grip on his broom and hid a wince at the sudden pain in his other palm. Moving his fingers slightly, he felt deep traces where he had plunged his nails but no blood, thankfully.

"Potter, Granger and Weasley, there you are," McGonagall finally saw them and swept past Malfoy to stand between him and the students. "Madam Bones, Head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement, would like to hear your declarations about the… Sirius Black affair. Our guests claim to have seen Peter Pettigrew the other day and the Minister and she are here to review all the elements concerning Black's culpability, or lack thereof."

The Gryffindors gasped as one. _Sirius has his chance to be cleared! _Harry hadn't even dared to hope it would come that fast. He tried to look at the people who would be deciding his godfather's fate and realised Professor McGonagall was just before him, frustratingly hiding them from his view. The Transfiguration teacher was frowning, however, and she resumed after sending Harry a look which clearly demanded him to stay right where he was. "Professor Dumbledore warned me of your and Madam Bones' arrival, though he expected you this afternoon, Minister. And I understand the Aurors' presence as an escort but I fail to see how Mister Malfoy and Mister Nott fit into this."

"Mister Nott," Malfoy started, looking at her arrogantly, "contacted me this morning because he knew I have some little connections within the ministry and he claimed to have urgent information concerning this affair. Considering the ministry's actual staff shortage in some departments, I decided contacting the Minister myself would be faster."

"It is very - kind of you," having said that, Professor McGonagall focused her attention on another man. _Nott?_ Harry wondered. He had the impression to have heard that name before. He stepped aside to study the man more clearly. Nervous, agitated and very pale, Nott did not give a good first impression. He even looked like he had slept in his current muddy robes, if he had slept at all. Turning as if he could sense Harry's scrutiny, their gazes crossed and an expression of fear and hate flashed on his face. Suddenly, Harry remembered where he had heard the name. It was one of the Death Eaters who had responded to Voldemort's call last year.

"It also gives me the occasion to meet the new teachers Professor Dumbledore hired. I want only the best for Hogwarts," Malfoy spoke. His eyes were trailing coldly over Hermione as he said that and Harry felt her repress a shiver. Nevertheless, she kept her head high and Harry couldn't help but feel proud of her. Year after year, Hermione had grown both a backbone and a temper. No doubt Draco Malfoy would have had a lot to say about those to his father. Hermione opened her mouth to answer but instead looked over Malfoy's shoulder and smiled brightly.

"Unfortunately, what I think is best and what you think is best is most often than not different, Lucius." Professor Dumbledore had arrived.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to welcome you to Hogwarts's school for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Under his calm facade, Remus was swearing colourfully as he forced his body to appear relaxed and, at his feet, Snuffles started to growl when he too caught sight of Malfoy and Nott.

A little voice had told him to stay on his guard when Moody had announced the Ministry delegation was here and explained why they were here. The former Auror had remarked they were early. He had warned that something might be up. But Remus and Sirius were too taken with the idea that Sirius' case would finally be examined fairly today for the first time to pay attention. So, despite his fatigued and aching body, Remus had chosen to be here with Snuffles. And now they had been noticed and it was too late to avoid discreetly a confrontation with the Death Eaters.

"Something's wrong?" Frodo asked. The young man seemed to have heard the growl and was looking warily between Snuffels and the group from the Ministry.

They had barely had the time to introduce Legolas to Albus and Moody when the ex-Auror's crude proximity and identification charm had been triggered. There were still so many things that needed to be explained to understand the whole picture that Remus didn't know how to answer briefly to the question.

Eventually, Remus answered truthfully, "It's a long story." And, under the pretence of bending down to scratch the dog's ears, he reminded in a whisper, "Behave, Snuffles."

All he had for response was a snort. But the low growl ceased as Snuffles scampered off to jump on Harry, placing his front paws on the boy's shoulder to slobber spit all over his face.

"Eew! Snuffles!" Harry protested half-heartedly as he shoved the dog off him. An instant later, however, he was on his knees, discarding his broom on the ground to embrace the dog and rub his shoulders warmly. Looking up, he offered a smile to Remus who responded in kind before giving an acknowledging nod to the rest of the students. Still, Remus couldn't help but remark that Harry looked torn between genuine happiness at seeing Sirius and him and tension.

"Appalling behaviour. Can't you control your _dog_, Lupin?"

And Harry wasn't the only one tense with good reason. In Remus' opinion, Malfoy and Nott were much too close to the boy for comfort. Thankfully, Minerva had put herself between them and her students and Kinglsey hovered inconspicuously near, hanging as close as possible without outright leaving the close-knit group from the Ministry.

And then, there was Sirius. Sirius who would take all the risks to keep Harry as safe as he could, Sirius whose secret had been learned by Malfoy and Sirius whose hackles were rising in anger.

Well, Malfoy had addressed Remus. If he had hoped for a reaction on his part, he had spoken to the wrong Marauder, then. "Lucius," came the pleasant greeting.

A flash of annoyance passed briefly in Malfoy's eyes before his usual cool countenance came back, tinged with a touch of smugness. He knew Sirius was the dog and he knew Remus was aware of this fact.

But Remus also knew that there was nothing to do about this before Malfoy revealed the truth and he refused to rise to the bait. All these years hiding his lycanthropy and his various wounds after a full moon had allowed him to practice a great poker face. Now, ignoring the way the throbbing in his injured arm beat to the rapid rhythm of his heart, Remus deliberately turned his back to the Death Eater to follow Albus' introduction of Legolas and his friends as if he hadn't a care in the world.

A few shocked gasps rang out. But Remus wasn't overly worried. No matter how agitated he seemed, Nott wouldn't act without an order from Malfoy. And unless Malfoy was more desperate or stupid that he looked, he wouldn't dare an attack on him in presence of Aurors and even less here at Hogwarts itself, with Albus Dumbledore speaking not three feet away from them.

And if it seemed a little insulting to dismiss casually one of the most powerful wizards of Britain, well, it was meant to be. Remus had never claimed to be above pettiness. He just didn't indulge very often.

"I don't recall ever giving you leave to call me by my first name, wolf." The scornful voice cut out clearly above Albus' calm one and the old man paused to look over Remus' shoulder with intent blue eyes.

"And you have no right to treat Professor Lupin like that either!" an angry voice intervened. And angry but very young voice. It took only a second for Remus to replace it.

Cutting Malfoy as the Death Eater opened his mouth, Remus spoke with a hint of wry amusement "Thank you, Dean. Your intervention is appreciated." But as Dean opened his mouth again, he added firmly "But entirely out of bounds." And dangerous. Malfoy was up to something and Remus didn't want any student involved when the wizard decided to act.

Chastised, the boy seemed to subside a bit but a rebellious light in his eyes told Remus he still wanted to speak out so he shook his head gently, all the while holding the Gryffindor's gaze. Nevertheless, Remus felt assured Dean would stay quiet only when Hermione started to whisper urgently in the hot-heated boy's ear, leaving him free to face Malfoy. But yet another voice intervened.

"Lupin? Remus Lupin?" Cornelius Fudge stammered out, eying him nervously and making a move for his pocket before aborting the gesture. "The werewolf you hired two years ago?" he addressed Dumbledore.

Said werewolf didn't know whether to growl out loud or not as talks and murmurs started. These people were here for Sirius' case and it looked like he would end up the one assessed. As if Malfoy's insufferable presence was not disturbing enough. And if it stung to be only known as the monster Dumbledore had hired to teach Defence to his students, it was even more enervating to be talked about as if he wasn't there.

"Why yes, I'm rather sure it's him," Albus replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he looked at Remus. "I don't think he has drunk Polyjuice Potion during this last hour and I'm reasonably confident he doesn't have a twin stored somewhere. Do you?"

Remus had only a second to remember the old game and answer blandly, "Not to my knowledge."

"Of course not," the Headmaster pondered out loud. "A double?"

"Never met him," was said with a hint of wistfulness.

"That would have been an interesting experience," the old man reflected thoughtfully.

Remus nodded blithely in agreement, ignoring the watchers' incredulous stares.

And unexpectedly, he felt a pang in his heart. James and Sirius had used to understand why he always followed Albus' lead in these silly exchanges. Exteriorly, they had seemed aggravated, had groaned and complained about the change of subjects but deep down, they had appreciated his way to let potentially painful comments or situations slide past him without hurts and turn them into a joke. But now, James was gone and Sirius… Remus took a look and hid a smile. Sirius still understood his use of levity. Snuffles' brilliant eyes were dancing with silent laughter, his wagging tail thumping on Harry's leg like a metronome.

"Hem, hem," a tiny witch beside Fudge cleared her throat to attract attention.

As he recognised her, Remus suppressed the sudden urge to bite off _someone's _useless and toad-like head.

"Well, that's all jolly good and nice, Professor Dumbledore," Dolores Umbridge, senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and vehement voice for the control of part-humans started sweetly. "But don't you think it's unsafe to have defenceless children around such a dangerous half-breed such as – hum - Mr Lupin? And today, of all days!" she widened her eyes for dramatic effects. Uncharitably, Remus thought it made her look even more like a slimy toad.

"No." Albus' reply was short and firm.

"Madam Umbridge, if you have problem with my person, I would thank you to discuss them with me. Otherwise, my condition during the nights of full moon lasts only _during the night_," Remus stressed slightly, choosing to address the issue himself. He was tired, anxious, trying desperately not to show it and in short, he simply did not have enough control to spare to keep his fraying temper in check.

Acting as if she hadn't heard them, Umbridge turned towards Harry and the other students, looking them over briefly. Finally, she seemed to single out Ginny Weasley. "And you, Miss, aren't you a little scared, knowing a werewolf is in this school?"

Without hesitation, the red-haired girl answered, "No." Looking straight at Malfoy, she added quietly, "There are much worse monsters."

"Ah, but you admit you consider –"

"Professor Lupin as the best Defence Professor we ever had," Dean interrupted again, visibly irritated and daring her to contradict him. But suddenly, his eyes widened in alarm and he looked towards Moody to see the current tenant of the post giving him a crooked grin with a dangerous glint in his normal eye. "Ah, hum, present company, er, included. Sorry, sir. But you're the second best, hands down!"

Remus' lips twitched involuntary despite his increasingly fouler mood. His former student still needed to curb his wilfulness. But thankfully, Moody agreed with Dean so the boy wasn't about to vex the former Auror. He had taken the job only because he felt he still owed a year to this school's students and no one else had been competent enough to take the place. Saying this in front of people who frowned consistently upon Albus' choice of teachers didn't seem a smart move, however.

"Your students just seem to adore you, from what I can gather," a quiet voice murmured in Remus' ear and he jumped slightly, his heart missing a beat.

"Keep that up and I will fit you with a bell," he threatened in a low voice without turning around, keeping an eye on the scolding Minerva was giving to the young boy. She didn't look about to take points, he remarked.

Legolas' soft chuckle answered him. "Take a number and stand in line. Gimli will want to try that again very soon. Why don't you teach again?"

Remus' entire body froze at the suddenness of the question, caught off guard. Why, indeed? It had always been his dream. But sometimes, as he had learned painfully, some dreams weren't meant to be. "Well, for one, there are the laws Umbridge passed last year," he said, voice tightly controlled. He could feel Legolas' eyes boring a hole into his back. That wasn't exactly what the elf meant and they both knew it. With a sigh, Remus resumed, "It's too dangerous. One night, it'd take only one night free for the wolf to make a carnage. That'd be frighteningly easy. Dean Thomas has always been a rather bold young man but most would always fear me."

"Then they are idiots. Dean has a very quick mouth and because of this, the other children I see had to settle for cheering silently for you. These ones wouldn't mind having you back."

Remus let his eyes trail over them at these words. Legolas was right. The Weasley's, Harry and Hermione had said as much this summer. And despite his worries, he finally realised he didn't see fear or disgust in the eyes of the Gryffindors he knew less well. Only acceptance, as he had always found at Hogwarts.

Gratitude and a warm, bubbling feeling washed over him, threatening to tear his precious control away and Remus had to squeeze his eyes shut briefly, muttering, "Gryffindors have more bravery than sense, sometimes."

"Bet you are one," the teasing voice shot back gently.

Remus choked back a quick breath that could have been a laugh. Unless it was a sob, he wasn't too sure. There were too many memories at Hogwarts and he was too tired. He couldn't take much more of this discussion, here where the past met the present. Sirius too had always had more guts than brain as Lily had told him an autumn afternoon, just here in front of the castle, leaning back against James as the Head Boy laughed uproariously.

They had argued here too, and Remus had a vision of flashing green eyes, demanding to know why he wasn't taking his Prefect's duty seriously and stopping James from acting like _such an ass_. Lily's eyes. Harry's eyes, full of righteous anger, as James' son glared at Umbridge with unconcealed dislike.

Behind him, Legolas shifted a bit and sighed. "Want a break from the Spanish Inquisition? Aragorn is getting nervous; Gimli and I have been behaving for too long."

The words took a while to be processed. When they did, "You're mad."

"Maddening. That's normal. I had a long time to practice," smugness and cockiness as Legolas raised his voice slightly on the last part, preening as at the announcement of his lifetime achievement and Remus just _had_ to look to meet wickedly laughing blue eyes. And approaching from behind…

"Considering the time it takes you to get something right, I wouldn't boast if I were you," Gimli retorted, walking beside Aragorn.

"But you're not, _elvellon_, and thus unable to claim to know the subtleties of my mind."

"Fallacies, you mean," the rust-bearded man said gruffly, barely sparing a glance for Remus.

Which suited him just fine. He needed a moment to centre himself and barely heard the conversation drift away. He needed to let the past slip out his thoughts, focus on the immediate happenings. If only he wasn't so weary, if his mind could stop wandering down these worn paths… _Oh Merlin_… he was running on empty and wanted nothing more than rest and sleep. But his body's demands would have to be denied for the moment. _Later, _he promised himself, _later. When Sirius' case is argued and Malfoy gone._ But the blonde wizard was currently discussing with Fudge and didn't look about to leave.

So intent was Remus on getting himself back in control that he didn't immediately feel the weight of intent grey eyes on him.

"You can ask away, Aragorn. I don't bite. Much," he almost snapped and winced. _Bad joke._

But the other man only shook his head. "When Legolas just decided you needed a breather? He would have my head. Gimli and he know I am wise to their tricks. Arguing away to distract from something or someone is their favourite. Well, no. Actually, it's their third favourite."

Remus narrowed his yes and tilted his head to ponder this. _A break from the Spanish Inquisition, he said_. Biting back an irritated hiss, he tried not to take offence at the protection Legolas seemed to have given him with barely a warning. James and Sirius had just barrelled right in when they were feeling protect- he cut that thought short. _Don't think about the past. _These places were always sore but today, the grief and the pain felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Now was not a good moment to be vulnerable, even though Legolas and Gimli had chosen to harass Malfoy and were keeping him busy looking affronted.

Finally turning back to Aragorn, he found him content to wait in silence, perfectly at ease with his musing companion. Eventually however, Remus' curiosity got the better of him. "Third?"

"Third," Aragorn nodded. "Second is argue away to amuse their friends and cheer them up or keep them happy. I fell for that one a time or two," he finished with affected casualness.

Amused despite himself, Remus murmured, "Only a time or two, of course."

"Or perhaps a little more often, if you like to take these details into accounts," Aragorn rectified blithely, eyes shining with fondness and remembrance. "Anyway, their all time favourite past time is to argue away."

"To?" Remus asked curiously.

"Nothing. They just argue away."

Chagrined, Remus stated, "I should have expected this one, did I?"

Aragorn smiled but didn't reply. "I thought you would appreciate a warning. When they argue away just for the sake of arguing is the time you wonder what, by the gods, you did wrong to deserve this and have to remind yourself why it would be a bad idea to kill them. Even if you know everyone would be willing to close their eyes and believe these two clowns just had an accident and fell off the mountain," he continued, muttering more to himself than to Remus by that point.

Dismayingly enough, Remus didn't think he was joking.

"Well," Albus cleared his throat and all conversations stopped to pay him attention. "Since we've all been introduced, I suggest we take the rest of the discussion inside. Harry, Ron, Hermione, stay with us, please. The other students, run along to your other occupations. Your friends will rejoin you later and Remus will have time to say hello tonight at dinner."

Harry handed his broom to one of his Quidditch team mates and reluctantly, the children passed through the assembly to disappear inside the castle with a last good-bye. "See you later, Harry." "Later, then." "Don't forget us, Professor. We'll warn the others that you are here."

Once they left, Albus offered his arm to Amelia Bones and led the way inside. Remus and Aragorn waited until Harry, Snuffles, Ron and Hermione were beside him to follow. Incidentally, that left them the last to enter and also didn't leave Malfoy the occasion to stay at their back. Uneasily, Remus watched him toss a smirk over his shoulder as he passed the door, still speaking with the Minister.

Malfoy wasn't looking at him. With dread, Remus replayed the last seconds in his mind. Groups dissolving and heading for the door and Nott bending down to tie his shoelaces, sinking out of sight. _He is still behind._

"_Stupefy!_"

Remus had barely the time to start his turn – but the red light missed him narrowly. From the corner of the eye, he saw it heading for Fudge.

"_Expelliarmus_" Harry cried out, made fast by Quidditch practice.

Fudge yelped in terror as a gold film fizzled to life around him, absorbing the spell and expanding in a split-second to block the entrance.

"_Protego_"

Turn completed, Remus cast the first jinx that came to mind "_Petrificus__ totalus!_", as Harry fumbled with his wand, caught off guard by the reflection of his own spell on the Shield charm.

A gasp, Hermione exclaiming "A protective barrier!" from _just_ _behind_ him, rooted to the ground and he knew his aim was off and knew he _couldn't_ move as the sun caught a silver glint heading straight for him.

His last thought before being knocked down was _careless to have forgotten Nott_.

* * *

Ladies and gentlemen, please take a moment of silence to appreciate the author's first cliffie ever written. Thank you. You can mob her now.

Firstly, the more popular questions:

When are the people left in the states and Gandalf going to appear? Next week, fic time, hopefully less than another six months in real time –though unlikely. In my plot, they're supposed to appear by part 8. And I still haven't wrapped up part five.

When are the first classes with Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli? Shortly after Gandalf arrives. If it works out as I want to, the day after.

Will Legolas ever reveal his true form? I'd say yes but he is glaring at me and threatening to go into hiding in the Whomping Willow if he has to escape hormonal young girls. So…Yes. He'll deal with it. ;)

The twins, the other pair of twins and other mischief-makers: Now that you mention it, I _might_ _have_ planned a prank war… Tremble, puny mortals, tremble. ;)

And finally, "Hurry up!" "Update soon!" and so on… Er… I'm really, really sorry? Real life is partly to blame and the rest of the responsibility rests on only one character. Remus. Well, two. Molly is giving me trouble too. shakes head It's always the quiet ones who'll get you. By the way, if I don't have enough written in TaBA to update in less than two months, it will still be these two's fault but the story that has me worked up into knots won't be posted before I'm sure it's completely done.

**Aislynn**** Crowdaughter**: Already replied to your mail but let me say it again. Thank you! I love the detailed comments you make on all my stories! And I'm so proud to make you consider liking Phineas. Personally, I think Phineas is greatly likeable, what's not to love after all? Slytherin, aggravating attitude, enough scathing wits to peel paint off walls … Okay, I see the problem. He is not friendly. But he is fun to keep around. :)

**Alynna**** Lis Eachann: **Poor Remus indeed. He spent all his time talking to a maddening elf then had to listen to him argue with a stubborn dwarf. Sirius, Aragorn and Boromir? We'll see…

**Arianne**Beta mine! I answered in a mail but I have to say it here too. I'm soooooo proud of Legolas. That's my annoying elf. No need of powers to get on others' nerves, do we?

**Aro**: Hobbits tricksters. Aragorn should really know better. LOL. A patented Elessar gaze of truth? snickers

**Baculities** Thanks for the review. If you see mistakes, could you point them out? I'm afraid these are not merely spell checks mix-ups but they show genuine syntax or grammar ignorance. English is not my first language. That means if nobody tells me something's wrong, I won't realise it.

**Computer: **Thanks and yes, they pretty much have the same face as in their former lives except for the height. You can take a look at the actors if you want a visual aid for the features. Except that sometimes, I'd rather use the descriptions from the books. When I wrote Boromir as a blond, I was thinking about Mr Bean. Sean Bean, not the infamous one. Boromir is supposed to be dark-haired. And I can't remember Frodo's description in the books but Elijah Wood has unforgettable striking blue eyes. And Viggo Mortensen has blue eyes while Aragorn has grey ones. For that, I used the books. So, just mix the descriptions form books and movies for now. If I ever decide to describe them completely, I'll stick to the same description after. Confused? So am I. You can only be sure of one thing: the elves are using a glamour charm.

**Hai**thanks for all the comments and yes to all of your questions. You're the third one to guess about the p-ball and I'll say the same thing to you. Shush, it's a secret!

**Kel**: The reunion is my favourite chapter out of all those I've written. We'll see if it holds 'til the end of the fic… Well, Legolas and Gimli could act like normal people but where is the fun is that? People need hobbies, even strange ones…

**Leitheindel**Could you not ask rhetorical questions when Legolas is around? Rhetorical questions are not supposed to receive an answer, even less multiple ones. Why did the chapter stop? It was a good place to stop, the author wanted to see if JKR would answer to a couple questions she had in book 5, she knew it would infuriate the readers and she has a twisted sense of humour, and sorry my inner Legolas seems to be having trouble speaking with inner Gimli's hand over his mouth.

By the way, love the threats.

**Narwen**: I aim to please and I'm glad to serve. Congratulations, you're the second one to have guessed correctly. It's the p-ball. But shush! It's still a secret!

**Neth**Warnings? Well, my beta didn't say anything so I thought it was okay. But you _were_ warned, actually. I did say I loved that chapter, didn't I? Hope you didn't strangle yourself too badly… or not. My inner Weasley twins are congratulating themselves on a job well done.

**Sabriel-chan**our favourite schizophrenic manages his different behaviours wonderfully. It's the people around him who are confused…

**Sylvia Viridian: **Well, I don't mind if you're not gracious about waiting if you don't want to be. As long as you're still there when the next chapter is out, I'll have no complaints. Unlike you lot…

**Tankplushie**thanks!Channelling JKR? God, I'd love to. Unfortunately, the one who seems to like it the most in my head is Phineas. Although he gives fun perspectives if you have a warped sense of humour….

**Tigerlily**Are you the one who called the fic with Phineas 'sweet'? Do you know how long I stared at the screen when I saw that word? Well, congratulations, you've managed to make the Phineas-shaped muse in my head shut up and leave me alone for a while. Him and sweet used in the same context? snickers

**Tori**Have I already told you how much I loved your reviews? These are _long_ and you tell me everything you liked. Thank you. Ne t'en fait pas pour la ponctuation, je suis très contente que tu aies écrit un review malgré un clavier brisé. Legolas à l'agence de location de voiture ? Mais qu'est-ce que tu as contre ces pauvres employés ? Ils n'ont rien fait pour mériter la visite d'un elfe contrarié. En fait, ça n'aurait pas apporté grand-chose de plus à l'histoire. Les mortels ont récupéré leurs affaires, rendu le véhicule et ils sont partis rejoindre Dumbledore. Rien de nouveau à part quelques employés traumatisés. Ou complètement charmés, ça aurait dépendu de l'humeur de Legolas à ce moment.

LOTR is a great friendship tale. I had the impression Tolkien stressed on the friendship between Sam and Frodo but Legolas and Gimli's one is the one that marked me too. From animosity in Rivendell to friendship in Lothlorien, you can't help but feel wonder at this. And for my part, I find these two loads of fun to write. Legolas and Aragorn… Tolkien never said much on this but Legolas only left Middle-Earth after Aragorn died. And he followed him into Mordor, where his grandfather and two third of his people were killed in the second age. And even if Tolkien never said they knew each other before the Council of Elrond, the movie hinted at it. Oh, yeah, these two had to be good friends. And as I've already said, Faramir will be back later.

Well, I'm following JKR's lead and the story covers nine/ten months. Will this be long enough for your taste? After all, we're only two days into the story and wrapping up part five of my plot.

I'm glad you liked Aragorn's schizo moment and the fellowship reaction to it. That's the thing with good friends ;) They back you up when you need it but as soon as you don't, they tease, tease, tease. Mercilessly.

Eomer will be mentioned but Thorongil left for Gondor before his birth. They never met. But there is a way to introduce all of Aragorn's names; though if I decide to do it, it will be in a long time.

**Wiccanwitch**I'm sorry to hear about your site. Well, your English is good (and your Dutch has to be) so it's not too dramatic if you have trouble with French. And as you've said, if you're in Bruxelles, you'll have to improve.


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